Star Trek: Lost Mare
by LJ58
Summary: Told in the Star Trek universe, a young scientist has just made contact with a promising new world in a very unexpected way. Only now she might be the planet's hope for peace when a misunderstanding could lead to war between opposing factions; and the Federation itself.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**1**

"This is the last one," the physician asked wearily as the patient was rolled into the operating theatre by an intern who had to be equally as worn out after helping with the recent disaster to strike their city-state.

"Yes, Dr. Marcan," the head nurse replied as she pulled back the stained sheet draped over the battered body of the last patient.

"Oh. Oh, my," the student nurse at her side gasped as C'yla pulled the sheet back.

"What's wrong," the physician asked with a yawn. It had been a long night, and even he was ready to call it a day. Past ready. But he had taken an oath, and unlike some of his more mercenary brothers, he took that oath seriously.

"Look at this," C'yla told the physician as she pulled the bloodied mass of blonde hair from the patient's face. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

"Blessed Maker," the attending nurse gasped as she stared down at the pale, flat visage of the creature before them. "Is it….some kind of mutate?"

"What it is, is an injured being that needs our help," the taller, very masculine physician grunted as he glared at the nurse who had backed away. "C'yla, start the IV, saline, and four CC's of prylis."

"Yes, doctor," the head nurse nodded as she went to work.

"Interesting. This is obviously a female, but she looks like no mare I've ever seen," the physician commented as he cut away the ragged garment that covered the pale, slender body.

"She…. She doesn't even have proper hooves," the student nurse gasped as she recovered enough to pull the patient's strange footwear off while the other duty nurse tended to her ruined clothing. "Her feet are dreadfully mutated. I'm not even sure how she walks on those….those things. She must be one of the gene defectives we've heard about from the wastelands."

"More and more interesting," the doctor murmured as the head nurse efficiently set up the IV, and filled the medicines required.

"Not even a vestigial tail," he murmured as he rolled the smaller body over enough to help pull away the last of the filthy rags soaked in the patient's own blood. "Nurse C'yla, I am starting to think this is not a simple mutation."

"What do you mean," the older nurse asked in alarm as the doctor carefully cleaned, and wrapped the wounds on the creature's forehead.

"I think….it could be an entirely new _evolutionary_ break," he told her as his tail flicked in betrayal of his own astonishment.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes rounded as she gave a soft nicker of alarm. "But….how would such a thing be possible?"

"Who can say? With all the pollutants, and biological weapons that the wars have been unleashed on our world over the recent years, I'm surprised we haven't seen even worse than the usual mutations that have been discovered to date."

"Poor filly," the student nurse murmured, having regained enough composure herself to continue her task of cleaning the strange patient. "Even her body hair is so sparse as to be nonexistent. She doesn't even have a decent coat."

"I suspect she must be from one of the rural herds, or there would have been some exploitive media all over her before now. Fortunately, we can forestall any such shame for her, or her family," the doctor declared as he began the necessary treatments after ensuring his patient was going to survive.

"Do you think even gen-gineering can repair mutations this extensive, doctor," the young nurse asked, her own soft, brown eyes now lit with sympathy.

"We can hope. It depends upon the damage to the basic genome. She is whole, so that is promising. She has all her limbs, and aside from the flatness of her face, and her deformed hooves, she looks remarkably _human_."

"She has almost no nose at all," C'yla grimaced. "I cannot imagine how she must have coped growing up."

"She looks young. Likely she has been kept isolated somewhere, as I surmised," Dr. Marcan decided as they continued tending the wounds as the therapeutic herbs began their work.

C'yla looked down at the strange female with a frown. "

Then how did she end up in the public records building? Had that brave firefighter not spotted her, she would have burned to death for certain," she pointed out.

"Perhaps she came looking for a cure. You know that some of the rural herds still live in relatively primitive conditions," the physician remarked as they finally pulled a fresh sheet over the still body after their work was done.

"She is responding well, doctor. The wounds are already knitting," C'yla noted as several of the more severe gashes and burns began to show signs of rapid healing as the special serums, and regenerative herbs available to them began to work on her. "She should be fine, now."

"Keep her sedated," the doctor decided after scratching the underside of his muzzle. "Once she is fully recovered, I think we'll begin her gen-gineering before the media can find out about her, and turn the poor filly into another freak show. By the time the she wakes up, she'll have an entirely new life waiting for her."

"But, doctor," C'yla asked uneasily at that claim. "Who will pay for it? If she's from the rural herds, she's likely not even of any worker caste."

"Someone takes care of her. And that means someone will pay the bills."

"How can you be sure," his senior nurse asked.

"Logic, C'yla," Dr. Marcan snorted as he shook his head, freeing part of his thick mane from the collar of his surgical tunic. "Look at how unblemished her flesh is beyond her wounds, and how _smooth_. An abused, overworked filly in her condition wouldn't look half so well. Nor has she been starved. Someone must be taking care of her. Someone with enough credits to pay for the treatment. Even if they don't, or won't, I'd help the poor thing myself on principle. We are healers, after all," the gray-colored male of humble birth himself told her curtly.

"Of course, doctor," C'yla nodded, her own reddish mane's forelock falling forward to give her a girlish look despite her age.

"Keep an eye on her all the same. Let me know immediately if there are any changes in her condition. And, C'yla? No media," he stated sternly.

"I understand, Dr. Marcan," she nodded to the kind-hearted healer. "I'll see to security myself."

The overtaxed physician nodded, and went to find a place to sleep off his own exhaustion.

**ST**

"Any trace of her," Captain Ben Sawyer asked his communications officer as he entered the bridge from the side hatch.

"Nothing, sir," the lean, blue humanoid with three eyes replied he turned to face the burly human with blonde hair cut close to his bullish skull. "I've been monitoring all frequencies, and the planetary network in her region as well just in case, but I've heard nothing."

"This isn't good," Benjamin Sawyer told his bridge crew needlessly as he took his command chair. "She should have been in and out of there in two hours, max."

"She could have been delayed. This is a first contact situation, and she knows she can't afford to risk exposing herself to the natives."

"Noted, if redundant, Lt. Myers," Sawyer told his security chief who glared at him with her dark green eyes.

"I can scan for her life signs, sir," Ensign Buvoki told him as the six limbed wolf-like creature turned from the science station. "But with their current level of technological development, there is still the possibility they could detect our scans, and trace our presence."

"Let's hold off on that option, then," Ben told him. "She's only an hour overdue. We'll give her a few more to account for innocent delays. If after that we've had no word, we'll have to do something. I cannot…. Will not leave one of our people behind."

"Should I prepare a landing party," the Amazonian woman with long, dark hair asked as she wore her usual scowl while looking over the consoles that gave her the data from the mission.

"Stand down, Lieutenant. Recall, we're not here for trouble," the captain snapped at the woman too ready to leap into a fight at the best of times.

"But, sir….!"

"I said, stand down. Spiros," he told the cerulean-skinned communications officer. "Continue monitoring all frequencies. We will consider our options if she continues to fail to check in. Until I decide otherwise, we do nothing," he said, eyeing Lt. Dorothy Meyers. "Nothing," he added with emphasis.

The muscular woman scowled.

**ST**

"She's handling the gen-gineering well, doctor," C'yla beamed at the handsome male physician who returned to study his patient after his rest. "Aside from some minor discomfort during the initial genetic repairs, she has done well. A few hours more, and she will look no different from any other filly born on the planet."

"I see," he murmured as he studied the sleeping patient. "Her muzzle is still going to be shorter than usual, but that will hardly make a difference compared to what she was," he nodded with a smile. "She already looks _much_ improved. How are her vitals?" he smiled as he looked over the young filly laying on the bed while she healed in an induced medical coma.

"Doing well. BP and heart rate are nominal, and even the few peculiar organ arrangements we detected have shifted to allow for more viable restructuring of her internals. It looks as if you've saved _another_ life, doctor," the matronly nurse smiled proudly at him.

"That is why I'm here," he told her, noting the honey-gold body hair of the poor filly's new coat that contrasted well with the silvery blonde hair of her mane and growing tail. She was going to be a pretty one when she finished stabilizing. A real beauty.

The female moaned softly now, turning her head as she began to stir almost the moment he started to turn away. He eyed the anesthetic narcotic flow, and noted the bag was almost empty. "You'd better sedate her again," Dr. Marcan decided as he glanced at his nurse. "She's still at a critical stage. We don't want her doing herself any harm before her body has fully stabilized."

"Of course, doctor," C'yla agreed with him, moving to inject the necessary herbs into the IV.

"It is moments like this that remind me why I became a healer," he told C'yla.

"Not the fame, or fortune," the senior nurse teased him knowingly.

He merely chuckled as the young filly settled down, her mind and body sedated once more as the genetic damage of her unique mutation continued to be negated by the special drugs, and potent herbs he knew how to use with remarkable effectiveness. Which was why he had made it so high in the healer's caste despite his humble beginnings.

**ST**

The filly's startling blue eyes flickered open even as Marcan pulled off the last of her bandages. She frowned at him, tried to lift one hand, and frowned again when she realized she was strapped to her bed. Only she didn't remember being in a bed. She remembered…..

"Don't worry," the gray shape hovering over her spoke, dropping his gray muzzle to within an inch of her strangely sensitive ears that had moved to the top of her now properly equine head, since the rest of her body had transformed to resemble a true human. One evolved from the equine race that had begun its march to supremacy on their world so many millions of years ago.

She gave a soft raspy whinny of fear, and Marcan drew back, understanding. While it didn't seem to show, he had few doubts that she had still likely suffered much over the years, and expected to be faced with more abuse upon awakening. He smiled down at her as he patted her gowned shoulder gently.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he assured her in a kind voice he always used with patients. "You're safe. You're at the public med-center."

"Med….Center," she rasped, looking all the more alarmed. "I….I c-can't be here," she protested, fighting the restraints all the more.

"Relax. Relax," he ordered in a firmer tone. "If you keep struggling, I'll have to sedate you again."

"Oh, God," she moaned, a soft nickering sound rising in her throat as she turned her head from side to side, uncertain just then why her field of vision seemed so oddly skewed from what she was used to as normal. She didn't even feel right. That was the only way to explain it. Her body felt odd. Wrong, somehow.

Then the residual lethargy began to fade, and her mind began to clear completely as she stared up at the creature that was standing over her bed. In that instant, her mind once more focused as her memory quickly supplied all that had befallen her before she had blacked out.

"The….fire," she rasped, staring up at the xeno as she recalled the earthquake, and the damaged building she had been covertly investigating for Intel on the planet's culture on her captain's orders. Just before a broken gas line had apparently exploded, and trapped her behind a wall of flame.

"We have a very brave young firefighter to thank for getting you out. Your injuries were not too bad, but I was surprised at the degree of _genetic_ damage you exhibited. Don't worry, though, we managed to repair the worst of it."

"G-Genetic…..d-damage," the honey-blonde filly stammered as her mind began to reinterpret the sensations reaching her still slightly fogged mind.

"I know it isn't perfect, but it's not as bad as you were," the doctor told her as he held out a mirror after freeing her hands after she had calmed down. "I have never seen such a radical deformity, but most of the worst bio-toxins are _viral_, so it is possible you, or your mother, more likely, were exposed to a particularly nasty strain that evolved out of the spent bio-weapons still extant in the atmosphere."

She smiled weakly as she understood his explanation thanks to the universal translator subdermically placed in her aural canal since she was often on away missions. Still, he couldn't help but gape now as she regarded her image in the mirror. Thankfully, whatever else had been done, the device had not been found, and it still functioned.

Nor, ironically, had the physician taken her to be an offworlder. An alien in vulgar parlance. He thought her as just one one of the increasingly evident mutations brought about by the planet's last wars that left spent bio-weapons still poisoning parts of their still recovering world. That gave her an excellent cover now, better than her borrowed cloak she had taken from some unwitting female's clothesline. Only it left her in an even more precarious state. How did she get back to the ship, let alone contact them, since she had no idea where her equipment bag was by now. She almost hoped it had been destroyed in the fire, and quake, as she knew well the cost of the advanced tech falling into the native's hands. She could kiss her career goodbye for certain, _if_ she had one left after this screw-up.

After all, how was she going to explain getting herself turned into one of these equine xenos?

She had no idea their organic sciences were so advanced. She knew her own people's organic science was nowhere near as advanced. Their medical science in general couldn't do what had been done to her. That said, she knew she didn't have too much hope of reversing her present appearance without local aid. And wouldn't that go over well? Asking a native physician to reverse his process, because she wasn't a mutation, but an offworlder. Yeah, that would go over well. With the locals, and her own superiors in _Star Fleet_.

"Don't worry," the grayish horse-man told her when she groaned as she lowered the mirror. "I've already decided to absorb the cost of your gen-gineering myself if we cannot find your guardians."

"Gen-gineering," she murmured to herself, not liking the implications of that word even through the translator.

"Since we've been unable to locate your familial herd, or even a master," he added with a querying arch of a thick brow over one soft brown eye. "I had you declared a public ward, and placed in my care for now."

"H-How long have I been here," she asked him, ignoring the veiled reference to her caste, and position. She knew by now that the planet of E'osta, as the Exanters called their world, and themselves, was remarkably advanced, but that they still used a slightly skewed version of democracy that allowed feudal slaveholders to still exist. The caste system seemed to dominate even the few precious freedoms allowed the higher caste citizens. Even the wealthy healing caste was subject to possession by city-states that dominated the still primarily rural planet.

"Nearly a week," he told her as she now mentally calculated the local time, and realized that meant she had been at least three standard days overdue for her check in. Captain Sawyer was bound to be going crazy about now, wondering what had happened to her. Wondering if the mission, and their presence, had been exposed.

"I….I can't seem to remember," she chose to bluff.

"Well, that's natural. You've been sedated all this time while the serums, and regeneration fluids did their work."

"Oh," she murmured. "But….I don't remember much else….either," she told him, knowing she didn't even dare hint at the truth. "I just remember….looking for….something," she ad-libbed.

"I see," he murmured, turning to a small closet near her bed. "Maybe this will help remind you of something. Like a name," he smiled as he opened the closet and pulled out a small, scorched leather pouch she recognized at once.

"Is that…mine," she asked him as he held it out to her, keeping up the impulsive claim to amnesia she had begun even as her fingers itched to reach for the bag, and the precious devices within.

"Likely. It was found near you, and while the strap was badly damaged, you were the only other person in that part of the records hall."

She took the pouch with careful hands, praying her equipment might still be intact. She had already noted the touch-lock was in place, and hadn't been tampered with. To a culture that prized human stock, as much as any other possession, both belongings, and privacy were oddly still considered sacrosanct by the Exanter. That was likely why they had not bothered to try opening her pouch.

"I'll leave you to explore," Dr. Marcan told her with a slight smile as she stared at the pouch, wanting to open it, and not daring to do so in his presence. She could just see his reaction if she pulled out one of her recording modules, or even her prized communicator. Which was really all she wanted just then. Whatever was waiting for her now, she wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. Otherwise, she knew all too well from what she had already learned of this world that she was in danger of becoming this physician's _pet_, if not his actual slave. _Ward_ was barely just a step above either, and it was clear even to her still sluggish mind that the good doctor was attracted to her.

Too much so!

"Call if you need anything," the gray-colored equine smiled as he walked out, his white, lab coat billowing behind him as his tail twitched.

She paid him no mind as she only then pressed her thumb to the coded lock.

_To Be Continued…._


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**2**

"It's her," Lt. Spiros shouted from the communications station, shattering the stiff silence on the bridge. "I've got her signal."

"Thank God," Ben rasped as he swung his chair toward the communications post.

"Where the hell has she been," Andrea Meyers growled.

"She's requesting immediate transport," the communications officer reported as he held up a three-fingered hand to silence Andrea Meyers. The muscular security chief accepted it, but let her expression speak for her.

"She says she is alone, but in danger of imminent discovery," Lt. Dorothy Spiros told them.

"Transport, _now_," Ben decided as he nodded to the officer.

A moment later, they heard the shrill whine of klaxons as an intruder alert went off throughout the ship.

"What the hell happened," Ben shouted as Andrea barked demands into her own communication link.

"We have a _native_ on board," Lt. Meyers reported to the captain as she checked the console before her. "Two of them, in fact. But no doctor. We _missed_ Helen!"

"Meyers, you're with me," Ben snapped at the security chief. "Anderson," he yelled back at the navigator. "Keep our course steady, and our holographic distortion emitter online. You have the bridge. Spiros, see if you can find Helen again!"

"Yes, sir," the commander at navigation nodded as he instinctively rechecked the holographic image emitter that disguised their ship as just one more asteroid in the belt of rubble widely orbiting the planet below.

With Andrea Meyers at his side, Ben left the bridge, and headed for transporter room four with security team members forming at his side.

**ST**

Dr. Marcan looked around him with wide, brown eyes rounded in genuine fear and alarm as he pressed back into a corner of the transport chamber. Just in front of him, the young filly stood babbling an odd language to the equally strange creatures that stood near the energetic barrier now surrounding them.

He had been suspicious when the young filly had so obviously recognized the pouch, only to deny it as her own. Or at least she tried to shed doubt. Yet she obviously wanted it. Badly. She was quite easy to read. As if she knew nothing of body language, or how to control it.

He chose to leave her alone, and observe her in secret through the room's observation port to see what she revealed. When she opened the pouch, and pulled out a peculiar looking device, he thought at first she might be a spy. Then she began that odd, babbling grunting she was using now, and the room began to glow around her a moment later.

Still uncertain of what exactly was going on, he raced back to the room hoping to stop her before she could set off some dangerous weapon. Even as he rushed to her side, he only had time to meet her eyes as she looked up at him in genuine alarm before they both seemed to fade away for a moment.

Then, as if merely blinking, they reappeared in this odd chamber where three strange-looking humanoids of varying sizes and shapes began to babble all at once as an annoying, shrill wail filled the air, tormenting his ears. The mare had looked at him as she clambered to her feet, still clad only in her hospital gown, and clutching the scorched pouch in one hand, the odd instrument still in her other hand.

"Don't worry," she had told him, and turned to the three creatures near the energy wall he had found for himself when he tried to walk through it. The stinging pain had him retreating to the only real wall, and staying there as the mare babbled and grunted at those creatures that stood on the other side of the wall.

What nightmare was this, he wondered. And how in the name of the Maker did he get out of it?

He had no idea, but he genuinely wished it would just end.

The filly, however, had her own issues.

"Will you morons just call the captain, and shut off that _damned_ alarm," Helen Slater demanded as she stood just away from the quarantine shield. "I told you, _I'm_ Dr. Slater. Now get the captain…."

"The captain is here," Ben said gruffly as the hatch opened just then. "Care to explain yourself," he asked briskly as she glanced back at the physician, and saw he was very close to yielding to shock.

She supposed she understood. Aside from Andrea, who favored Andy, the two were accompanied by a pair of security men who were Wolvyrn. The bipedal lupines were a fierce sight to the uninitiated.

"It really is okay, doctor," she smiled at the healer, her tail unwittingly betraying her own anxiety however as she turned back to the captain.

"Captain Sawyer, _I'm_ Helen Slater," she told him, switching back to the common tongue they shared in the Federation. "I had a slight…..mishap while on the planet."

"_Slight_," the man virtually bellowed as he glared up at her since the transport chamber was raised by necessity to accommodate the energy buffers that helped make teleporting possible. "Dr. Slater, you were on a routine data-scanning mission. Where the hell have you been, and what's happened to you?"

"More importantly, who's your friend," Andy Myers demanded as she kept her hand on her weapon, though it was still holstered at her side.

"Dr. Marcan is the physician who treated me, and likely saved my life. Unfortunately, he also thought I was suffering a genetic mutation, and decided to try _correcting_ my defects," Helen reported.

"You're kidding," Ben blinked as he stood there absorbing her bland explanation before he managed the words.

"Do I _look_ like I'm kidding," she snorted, stamping a small hoof.

Andrea snickered.

Helen swore, and held up her communicator. "Would I have known the security code to open an emergency frequency if I weren't Dr. Slater? And by the way, you can tell Gene I have a veritable _cornucopia_ of cultural data on the Exanters that is going to delight him. Not to mention that their political system is going to drive him _crazy_. They have a combination of feudal democracy, with caste levels that range from…."

"It's Helen," Andy said, rolling her eyes as she relaxed her aggressive posture. "But what about your friend?"

"He….ah, rushed to my side during transport. I think he was being, ah, protective," she admitted sheepishly, not knowing of his suspicions. "He's like that."

"Contaminants," Ben turned to the transporter chief to query.

"They're both clean, sir," the senior chief reported as he looked up from the control panel. "And I've confirmed Dr. Slater's DNA pattern. It's a bit skewed just now, but there is no doubt. That…is her."

"I told you as much," she snorted again, glaring at the chief who had been trying to get a date with her for months since this mission started. And now she was all but naked in front of him in this thin robe. Of course, she was now covered by a smooth, dark blonde coat that made her look like a Terran Palomino. A bipedal Palomino, but still very much a horse judging from the man's stunned expression. Still, she was naked, because the small robe was covering very little. Some things, she decided as she thought of hospital gowns in general, must be universal.

"Think you can get your friend to put on a translator so we can speak with him," Benjamin asked as Helen's newly enhanced hearing picked up the end of the shield's soft humming. They had dropped the quarantine shield then. A wise precaution, of course, but it annoyed her.

And itched.

"I'll try. He's about one hair from succumbing to real shock, though."

"Try to reassure him. We've got a mess here, doctor, and we can't be just sending him back just now."

"I know. I know," she sighed.

"Get to it. We'll be on the bridge until you calm him down. I'll meet you in the ready-room in….thirty minutes. _Try_ to get him coherent by then," he suggested, glancing over at the wild-eyed creature that was watching his every move.

"Ah, he's not dangerous, is he," Andrea asked quietly now as she realized just how big Marcan actually was. But then, most Exanters were over seven foot when fully grown. Males, anyway.

"He's a doctor. and he's just had a helluva shock himself. Give me time, and he'll be fine. You might want to send Abe and Will off, too. _Instincts_," she added meaningfully, with a nod at the wolvyrn.

"Gotcha," the tall woman smirked, though Helen didn't think she truly understood. The woman had likely never been afraid of anything in her life. She was too mean.

"Doctor," Helen called to the pale Exanter again as she turned back to him. "It's okay. Honest. We're on my starship…."

"S-Star…..Ship," the physician rasped, staring at the hatch that had opened and closed of its own will when the four newcomers left the chamber. "What is this _madness_, filly," he asked gruffly, trying to sound demanding, and failing.

"If you are….okay….I'm going to try to explain everything. My captain wishes to speak to you, too."

"He….He can speak our language, too?"  
"Actually, I'm not really speaking your language, doctor," she told him as she slowly approached him after pulling out the small, teardrop-shaped device from the pouch she had left in one of the tech's care. "I use something like this. It translates everything you and I say so we can understand one another."

"That…tiny object can do such things," Marcan snorted in disbelief.

"It uses _very_ small machines. Nannites, we call them," she said, using a simple explanation for now. "Just place it flat against one ear, and you will be able to understand all that is said around you."

His hand slowly reached out, and she placed the small metal object in his palm. He stared at it, exhaling heavily twice, and then looked at her.

"We are truly on….on a ship? A _space_ ship?"

"Yes."

"How….? How was this accomplished? We were just in the clinic?"

"Transport through molecular teleportation."

"_Impossible_!"

He shook his head at her smile, then shook his head again.

"Obviously, it isn't, is it," he sighed, and carefully placed the small metal tear at his right ear.

"Do you understand me," she asked.

"I've always understood you," he replied gruffly.

"But now I am speaking my own language," she explained patiently.

He blinked, his ears twitching. "Amazing. I _hear_….."

"I know. Would you come with me now? I'll show you some of the ship, as much as I can, and then I'll take you to the captain."

"Why…. Why are you here, little one? Do you plan to invade E'osta? Are you…conquerors," he asked anxiously as his ears flattened in dismay.

"No, no, no," she assured him as the transporter chief snickered, and kept working on whatever held his attention when he overheard them. "We are explorers. Representatives of a vast alliance of various star systems that span the galaxy. The known galaxy, that is."

"We…. We didn't think….space flight was possible, even if life was theorized to be possible beyond our own world," Marcan admitted as she reclaimed her data modules from the pouch before she led him from the transport pad.

She smiled when he approached the edge cautiously, but stepped down after he saw she had safely passed beyond the point where the shield had been earlier. "The shield was only for security, and to make sure no biological, or foreign contaminants could enter the ship."

"But….how can you know if…."

"We have technology beyond anything you have yet developed, doctor. Obviously. The captain knew we were safe, and so now we can leave the transport chamber."

They emerged from the hatch, and he gaped at the long corridor that extended in both directions beyond that door.

"How large is this ship?"

"About four-hundred thousand metric tons," she shrugged. "I'm not sure of all the specs, though. I'm more of an _anthropologist_. Now, I'm going to stop by my quarters first to, ah, dress. Then I'll show you some of it."

"So, you came to _study_ my world," he surmised as she led him down the corridor to a lift that moved smoothly, and without sound. He gasped at the falling sensation, then steadied himself as she smiled at him and stood by his side without showing any alarm.

"Yes. We hoped to learn if you might make a viable addition to our Federation in time."

"Fed-er-ra-tion. I see. And what have you learned?"

"I was still studying your current histories, and government systems when the quake hit."

"Ah, yes. The public records building. Now I know why you were there alone."

"I was hoping to come and go undetected," she admitted sheepishly. "The quake was a surprise."

"They are common enough in our region. But I see now that you are not a mutation. That you were as the Maker intended all along."

"Yes," she smiled at him, hearing the dismay back in his tone as they reached her quarters. A few minutes later, and a few hasty, but necessary alterations to a jumpsuit she now wore with a space for her tail, and she was almost feeling normal once more. She didn't bother with boots, as they were rendered useless with her new hooves.

"I have harmed you," he said now in what sounded like horror. "I cannot imagine what you must feel at being so….violated."

"I am not so vain, small-minded, or egotistical," she chided him. "I know you were only trying to help. I know things could have been much worse, all told, and I know you obviously saved my life, because the last thing I remember was at least half of that ceiling collapsing on top of me."

"You had some serious wounds," he admitted with a faint nod as they entered a room filled with a myriad of alien beings.

"Oh. Oh, my," he murmured as he simply stood and stared.

"I didn't think," she began. "I can take you someplace more private….."

"No, no," he shook his head, staring around him in wonder now. "There are so….so many…. The diversity is...astonishing."

"Doctor?"

"Call me, Marcan, filly," he grinned at her, his interest still present in the twinkle of his brown eyes.

"I am Helen," she told him, trying to be more formal, she added, "Dr. Helen Slater."

"That name is _wrong_ for you. I shall call you _Honey_," he smiled. "It suits you," he told her as she belatedly realized that her name in his ears likely came out as a grating mass of syllables hard on the ears in his tongue.

"Thank you. And you were saying?"

"All these beings are….aliens?"

"We prefer offworlder to alien. It's less insulting to some."

"Of course. Of course. But….I never once thought such….diversity…..could exist. Or that it would come to us," he exclaimed.

"Well, it is a big galaxy. A very big one. Unfortunately, we now have a problem."

"I take it I am that problem?"

"Bright man."

"What to do with me, I suspect, is the crux of that problem," he murmured as she led him to a table near a huge, glass port. He stopped and gasped, staring out at the sea of stars beyond the thick glass, and the sliver of the planet visible to them beyond a ring of space rubble. "Is that….?"

"Your world," she nodded, gesturing the nearby planet. "I wanted to show it to you."

"It looks….so beautiful from here," he murmured, staring down at sphere the brown and blue world that was his home. "And so fragile."

"It is both. All such worlds are, Marcan," she told him as they sat down near the port. "That's what makes life so precious to our Federation. That is partly why we seek it out, and we try to learn from each encounter."

He looked out the port as a woman walked over to them, and he looked up at her. She was much like Helen had been before her 'healing,' and Marcan studied her carefully as she asked them what they would like without so much as batting a dark eye at their appearance. "D'vorkian ale," Helen/Honey told the woman. "Trust me," she grinned at him.

"She looks like you. Or, as you did."

"Don't start on that again. Although, I was going to query you on that….gen-gineering you mentioned. Can it be reversed," she asked.

"I have no idea," he admitted after a troubled silence. "No one has ever _not_ wanted to be wholly human."

"Touché," she grinned.

"I meant…."

"I understand. I'm only anticipating what my captain is going to ask."

"One of those others was your captain?"

"Benjamin Sawyer. The tall, blonde male you saw."

"And the female was his mate?"

She burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry. No, no, Dee is no one's mate. She's Haatorean. They're a race of hermaphrodites. And they're a very _tough_ people. And independent. The idea of monogamy would offend them."

Marcan blinked. "Truly? How odd."

"Well, there are some races that would be offended by the castes your people still preserve. Especially the slave caste."

"Are you offended, Honey," he asked her quietly.

"I'm….more open minded. I understand that different cultures progress at their own rates. And in their own ways."

"That was not a very definitive reply."

"I'm a student of many cultures. It's as definitive as I get," she smiled at him as the woman returned with their drinks in slender, but stout glass mugs.

"That's all we need for now, Doris," she told the older woman when she asked if they needed anything else.

"You are not what I imagined aliens….er, offworlders would be," he mused as he studied the container filled with dark, frothy liquid.

"I understand. Preconceptions die hard. Even I have a few of my own. And I know better."

"What did you call this," he asked her as he lifted the mug and sniffed at the liquid.

"D'vorkian ale. It comes from a planet about…..oh, nine thousand light years from here. They are even less advanced technologically than you are, but they make very good drinks though," she grinned as she took a healthy sip of her own mug.

He swallowed hard, and gulped down a mouthful. He smacked noisily, then licked his thin lips. Then he grinned. "It is good," he remarked with a wide smile, and then downed the rest of the potent ale.

"I thought you'd like it. It's almost like cazca," she told him.

"You've tried our beer, have you," he did smile now.

"I like to sample everything about the cultures I study," she smiled back.

"Everything," he asked abruptly, his brown eyes darkening as his ears swiveled forward, and she heard his tail brushing against the floor as it moved. She kept forgetting her own new appendage until it would unaccountably move, and just now, it twitched wildly, as if betraying the sudden throbbing of her heart as she felt herself suddenly warming to an alarming degree.

"Uhm, doctor….."

"Marcan," he told her, staring into her blue eyes as his free hand reached for one of hers.

"We….have to go see the captain. Now," she blurted out as she leapt from her seat. "He just gave us time for you to recover from your shock, and….."

"Do you have a bond-mate, or a master," he asked her bluntly as he rose from his seat after draining her glass when she seemed to be about to leave it nearly untouched.

She felt a dizzying heat flood her cheeks as her mind seemed to float off beyond her reach. And all because he had touched her hand. Good God, what if he did anything else? She might be burned alive!

"Let's go," she rasped, leading the way from the lounge as many of the beings around them watched them go with knowing smiles. He smiled, too, knowing well enough why the little mare fled his touch.

"Is something wrong," he asked her as he caught up to her at the door before leaving the strange lounge behind. "You did not answer me. Do you have a bond-mate, or master?"

"I…. No," she replied, knowing he would understand no other response. "I'm….a free woman on my world. I serve my captain, and my ship, by helping them understand the new worlds we find."

"Then you are of the worker caste."

"I….I suppose you could say so," she smiled weakly, then glanced back at him. "Marcan…."

"You're late," Andrea barked the moment they stepped through the hatch into the captain's ready-room.

"Stand down, Lieutenant. Dr. Slater, will you introduce us now," Ben asked as he rose from his seat at the head of the table. Behind the table was another view port, and the semblance of a huge, flattened spherical vessel with a massive cylindrical body that protruded just below it. Atop that cylinder were two struts that supported thinner cylinders that extended out and away from the rest of the structure.

"This is your ship," Marcan asked, going to stand before the model.

"The U.S.S. Sojourner," Marcan was told by the man.

"Dr. Marcan, this is Captain Benjamin Sawyer. Lt. Andrea Meyers is our security chief."

"Andy," she grumbled back.

He glanced back at the pair. "Greetings," he nodded back at them. "I am….quite astonished to be here. Obviously."

"Doctor," Ben nodded back as he gestured to a chair.

He smiled. "I believe I shall stand. Your backless chairs are more comfortable for me, sir. I am afraid I might…. Hurt myself," he ended as Helen yelped, jumping up from where she had tried to sit as she normally would..

She glared over at him, and he chuckled, unable to help himself. "You have to remember a tail is _more_ than an evolutionary holdover, Honey."

"It wasn't before," she glowered at him indignantly now.

"Honey," Andrea blinked, staring at Helen.

"Never mind," she grimaced, rubbing her backside as she decided she would stand, too.

"Yes, well, I take it, Dr. Marcan, that you are intelligent enough to understand the dilemma we are facing here?"

"I have an inkling. I already guessed I was not supposed to have found out about you, or your….remarkable vessel," he said, glancing at the strange model again.

"To say the least," Ben nodded as he rose to his feet again. "Our own rules generally forbid disclosing our presence until you are deemed prepared for such contacts. Not to mention, the fact that you've been brought here, technically, against your will."

"I would consider it more an accident now, I suspect," Marcan told him. "Of course, it is going to be tricky explaining my…our…disappearance. Provided I get back anytime soon."

"To say the least," Ben nodded at him.

Marcan felt a shiver of alarm at his tone, and his imagination went to work at possible fates before him. With such wonders, he knew just how easy it would be for such creatures to make him disappear. Permanently?

Or would they tamper with his mind? Leave him clueless, and witless of what the truth of the greater worlds around him truly was despite his experience. Or were they the sort of creatures to terminate those that interfered with them. But, no, Honey mentioned a reverence for life. Surely, being so civilized, they would not harm him in any way such as he feared.

"So, captain," Marcan asked as he adjusted his lab coat over his surgical scrubs even while fighting the need to stamp a hoof in impatience. "How do we solve this…dilemma."

Ben walked over to the taller male and stared up into his eyes. "With _trust_, doctor. With trust. We will send you home. Needless to say, Dr. Slater can no longer interact safely, or anonymously with your people, but I think we may have enough to placate our diplomatic corps. It will be up to them, and what we've learned to date, as to when, or if, my superiors decide to send an envoy to your world."

"And….if I tell my people about you before you arrive?"

"That will be up to you. I can only ask for your silence until we can _officially_ contact your people as representatives of a peaceful alliance of worlds they might wish to join," Ben told him.

"Then, there truly is no invasion? No subjugation of my people planned?"

"No, doctor," Ben said quietly as he turned to Andy. "In fact, if we contact your people, and they tell us to leave, we will. You remain independent. Whether you ally with us, or not."

Marcan nodded. "I trust you. But….what of Honey? Can she not return with me?"

Honey shot him a bittersweet smile, but said nothing.

"Uh-oh," Andrea Myers murmured as Ben glanced over at the big male now eyeing his anthropologist. "Nature's bees are buzzing."

"Not this time, doctor," Ben cut her off, nodding to Dr. Marcan. "You must understand. Dr. Slater is needed to collate that data we've gathered, and to present our findings to the Federation Council. It may be that she could be ordered to accompany the diplomatic envoy sent to your world in time, but that will be up to the Diplomatic Corps."

"Of course. As I surmised, even your peoples must have their worker castes, and superiors, I see. Now, how do I get back?"

"That," Andrea said smugly. "Is the easy part."

Marcan didn't like the tall female's smile one bit.

_To Be Continued….._


	3. Chapter 3

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**3**

Dr. Marcan, there you are," a young nurse sighed in exasperation as he walked in the front door of the medical center a few minutes after materializing in an alley behind the structure. It had taken him that long to shake off the residual shock, and the uneasiness of another transport.

Too, he had to accept the heaviness in his chest at having to say goodbye to the pretty, golden mare he had left on that wondrous vessel that sailed between the stars.

He offered to keep her safe. To take personal charge of her care. Neither she, nor her captain, would accept his word. It was not that they didn't trust him, the captain assured him, but they had their own ways to follow. Honey's time on his world was finished now, and she had other work to tend. A part of him understood, but a part of him railed at losing the beauteous creature he had literally made of her. And he had, for he knew now that Honey wasn't truly Exanter. Yet, now a part of her had become so. And he was drawn to that part of her more than he had ever been drawn to any of the mares he had ever met before in his life.

Only now she was gone.

"Doctor?"

"Sorry, nurse," he sighed, looking away from the twilight sky covering the city. "I stepped out for some fresh air, and got lost in thought. Is there a problem," he asked in afterthought.

"No, nothing like that. Well," she demurred, looking uneasy.

"What is it, Nurse T'lia," he asked, reading her badge.

"The young filly you had in ICU, sir. She's vanished."

"Vanished," he frowned, knowing he could not risk exposing his knowledge. Not just because it might make trouble. He knew well enough what happened to 'crackpots' who saw aliens, and supernatural creatures. He would be stripped of his title and vocation, and sent into the wilderness. Likely branded a lunatic, too. All their scientists knew, just _knew_, that space flight was impossible, and therefore no other hypothetical race could manage it either. Which made talk of aliens utter madness.

Just as everyone knew there was no such thing as spirits, or other such entities that some claimed to see from time to time.

Now, Marcan had to wonder. What else was out there if such as Honey, and her eclectic peoples were real? Just how much more was there to the universe than they had been led to believe? He would like to know. Maybe one day, he would.

"Has a search been ordered," he asked, seeming to take charge as he went through the usual motions. "Surely she couldn't have recovered enough to get that far?"

"I called Nurse C'yla at home, but all she said was the filly went off sedation this morning. It is possible she could have managed to get up and leave. Isn't it," the young nurse asked hopefully.

"It is," he nodded with a long sigh. "I'm just surprised that no one saw her go."

"She didn't even sign out," the nurse said anxiously. "We have no way of knowing who to bill."

"Well, it happened on my shift," he finally told her as they entered the clinic together. "I suppose I'll have to take charge of her expenses until she can be found, and her keeper charged."

The nurse relaxed. He understood. Being burdened with such a debt at her caste level would have threatened her with debt slavery, or even a lifetime assignment in the slave caste. It was not something a young worker would enjoy. Not if they were imagining hopes of working their way up the castes, not down.

"I'll take care of things," he told her, smiling at her. "Just have the account clerk place all her expenses on my file."

"Thank you, doctor. Thank you," the young brunette mare smiled, her gratitude genuine.

Marcan barely noted her bright smile, or the covert offering she made of herself. His thoughts were still not far from another shapely young female. Out in space, in fact, and likely moving farther away even as he mused on her. He sighed again, and turned his attention back to his work. After all, he was still a physician, with a job to do.

**ST**

"Dr. Marcan," a tall, reddish looking man with a dark suit, and a grim façade called to him as he emerged from the operating theatre that evening.

"Yes, sir. How may I help you," he asked, hoping this grim roan was not one of the family members of the poor colt who had just lost his right leg. Even their bio-science couldn't restore lost limbs. There was nothing left to regenerate, so it couldn't be healed. The damage from the accident had been too great. Even his skills couldn't compensate for a crushed bone.

"You can come with me," the man ordered as he held out an official badge with a government ID attached. "Now."

"What is this about," he asked. "Have I done something wrong," he questioned as his nurses came out of the theatre behind him, pushing the table with the still unconscious colt covered by the white sheets that had replaced the bloody surgical blankets.

"Doctor?"

"Take the boy to his room, C'yla. Keep him sedated until his sutures heal so he won't tear them open. I'll see his parents before I go," he said, speaking more to the agent than to her.

"What's going on, sir," the older woman asked, eying the man beside him who was glaring impatiently.

"I don't know myself as yet. Just call in Jelaz, and have him take over ER until I get back."

"That may not be for a while, sir," the man in black told him bluntly.

The nurses gaped, but Marcan waved them on. "I will see to the boy's parents first. They trusted me with their son, and I have to tell them what to expect."

"So, what happened to him," the man grunted, his insincerity evident.

"He lost a leg when a public bus lost its power, and crashed into a brick retaining wall. The wall collapsed on one side of the bus. Unfortunately, it was the side he was sitting on."

"Bad luck," the man muttered, showing no sympathy as he snorted his impatience. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

"You're obviously not a parent," Marcan told him.

"I don't have time for a family. Duty to the Prime keeps me busy enough."

The _Prime_? This man served the northern coalition's elected leader? What could he want with him?

"Well, it shouldn't take us too long. I just have to see the Sev'r's, and tell them their son will live, but he will never walk again."

"Plenty of adequate prosthetic's available these days. He can still work with one leg."

"He was a ball player. A good one, too. He ran lead for the local team."

"Not any more," the agent snorted coolly as he followed Marcan to the waiting room.

"I suggest you wait outside," he told the man curtly as he stopped in the door of the room, and saw the family of the colt all look toward him.

"Big brood. They'll manage," the agent grunted.

No wonder the Coalition was in such bad shape, if they had such cold-hearted men working for them.

"I doubt that matters to them, sir. He is their eldest, and their only son," he said, glancing over at the three younger females huddled close to their parents.

The man grunted, but moved toward the exit. Marcan went to the family, his smile fixed carefully in place as he began to explain the situation to the close-knit family. The mother began to weep almost at once. The father just stared at him, as if the words were not reaching him. Or he was still trying to accept them. He could almost understand how they felt. Almost. While he had no family of his own, he had felt his heart torn out just ten months past when Honey had flown back to the stars that had birthed her. He had not felt the same since.

"We will, of course, continue to do all we can for him," he promised the grieving family as he finished his summary of their son's condition.

The mother simply wept louder as he turned to walk away. At such times, he felt all but useless. But he had no time to brood. Four hours later he was landing in the capital city, and being escorted to the Prime himself. Almost five minutes after they entered the huge mansion of the Prime, he was escorted to a huge office where the most powerful man in the entire northern coalition sat behind a desk. It was telling that no one entered with him. He was simply shoved inside with the Prime, and left there.

The tall, shaggy brown male looked harried, and ready to bolt. His pale eyes, graying coat showed age, and stress, and for the first time, Marcan began to realize that even the Prime was, after all, just a man. And he was showing the signs of the burdens he carried.

"Sir, I am Dr. Marcan of Isoius. I am told you sent for me."

"Thank the Maker," the old male sighed as he pushed himself up from the chair. "Dr. Marcan, your people, your very planet, need your help," he said, crossing the room to stand beside him, his graying tail twitching anxiously.

"Of course, sir. But….I am just a lowly member of the healer's caste. How may I aid you?"

"Tell me, doctor, have you ever seen one of these," he asked, and held out a small metal teardrop in his hand that had been clenched in a fist until then.

"Where…? Where did you get this," he asked quietly.

"It was sent to me. By…a people that I did not know….could exist."

Marcan stared as the Prime shook his head violently.

"You might not believe me, doctor. Yet, they mentioned _your_ name."

Marcan's ears twitched, and stood straight up. "Do they say they are from the stars?"

The Prime's eyes narrowed.

"So, you _are_ aware of this….group?"

"I…. I first encountered them nearly a year past," he admitted. "I thought them gone from our world."

"Then…you believe their claims are true?"

"Sir, I was taken to their ship. I saw….beings, and wonders that are _beyond_ imagining. At first, I thought myself gone mad. Then I realized, they were just different beings, with a different science. Theirs seemed to be based on hardware, and mechanical devices rather than organic tech as most of our sciences favor. But in all this time, I've no doubt that they were real, or sincere."

"They claim this will help me to better understand them. It was hard to be certain. Their translator was hard to understand."

"It does help us understand different tongues. I was given one myself when I visited their ship. I heard dozens of different beings speak, and understood each one of them as if they spoke native X'terian."

"I see," the older man murmured as he stared at the tiny device. "Then….it doesn't….control your mind, as my advisors suggested might be possible."

"No, sir. It merely lets you hear and speak to those beings without difficulty."

The older male looked a little more relaxed then, but still he seemed uncertain.

"There is one thing I do not understand, doctor."

"What is that," he asked with a faint smile. "I am here to aid you, sir," he added when the Prime hesitated.

"Why you? Why would these people even mention you? Why would they have selected you to take to their ship at all?"

"In truth, sir, it was all an accident. They never meant to reveal themselves to me. One of their explorers, a scientist, came to study us."

"A spy," he asked, alarm sounding in his tone once more.

"No, sir. A young filly whose only interest was in our culture, and…." He smiled now. "Our beer. She seemed to be quite taken with our local cazca."

The Prime snorted. "You're jesting with me now."

"Not at all. At any rate, she was studying our language, and history records when a regional quake leveled the area records hall. Perhaps you recall that disaster earlier this year?"

"Yes. Yes, I remember when the fires made most of western Isoius a disaster area. But, what are you saying about her? Did she cause it?"

"No, great Prime. She nearly _died_ in it. She was brought to me gravely injured, and I mistook her diversity for a possible mutation. I used my gen-gineering skills to repair her apparent genetic defects, thinking she was one of us, and damaged by the bio-toxins that still plague certain southerly rural regions from time to time."

"I understand. And how did that land you on their ship?"

"When she finally recovered, she used a device that allowed her communicate with her people. They….transported her back to her ship with a most miraculous device. It lets them move from place to place instantly," he told the leader of their nation.

"That would explain those people's odd coming and going. They….entered from a previously empty room, and disappeared into the same room when they left. Yet no one saw them come, or go later."

"They can move themselves across great distances with their machines, sir. I experienced it myself. So I can assure you, it is quite real," Dr. Marcan informed him.

"I see," the Prime frowned doubtfully, but gestured for him to continue as he walked back to his desk now, still staring at the small device in his hand. "Go on."

"When she called her ship, they transported the filly back, and I, not knowing what was happening at the time, went to her just as they reclaimed her. I ended up rushing to her side, only to find myself in their ship in the very blink of an eye. It was that quick."

"And they did not tamper with your mind? Threaten you? Do….anything?"

"They simply explained they were explorers. That they were part of a great _alliance_ that spanned the galaxy. At least, the parts they knew of so far. They travel not in conquest, but to learn and sate their curiosity, and when invited, to help other beings learn and grow as they have. They even invite others to become a part of their great alliance."

"And….if we decide not to join their alliance," the Prime asked somberly. "Did they mention that?"

"Yes, sir, but only because I asked them. Their captain said that if we declined their offer of alliance, they would simply leave us alone. And, sir, I believe them. They are good people. Their hearts are good. Their ways are strange, but they are….like us, simply people. People making their own way through the Maker's universe."

The Prime sat back in his chair.

"My advisors tell me it must be a Southern Coalition trick. They tell me this is likely some ploy to gain control of us, and use some manner of mind control to subjugate what they could not claim by force."

"I understand your concerns, sir. I can only offer you my own meager experience, and tell you what I know. Which I have."

"It is more than I've heard before now. Tell me one more thing, doctor. Why have you not told anyone of this before now?"

Marcan actually smiled now.

"Of course, my lord. Tell the world that _strange_ _visitors_ from other worlds came to us, and they watch us, determining if we might be fit to join their great alliance? Tell people that I visited an alien….an _offworld_ ship, with all manner of strange beings aboard? I'd be in the southern pastures myself by now, I think, had I uttered a single word," he told the Prime honestly.

"I see. Yes, I forgotten how conservative some elements among the mainstream governors can be at times."

"I will say one more thing, sir. Something I think might be worth considering," Marcan went on.

"And what is that?"

"The young filly, the scientist that came to us?"

"Yes, doctor," he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Sir, she came to us, and I changed her very form. I made her…._strange_ to her own people. I gave her our shape, our form. And as you know, there is no known reversal of such gen-gineering. Why should there be," he shrugged. "Which is what I told her when she asked of it."

"And?"

"And she did not curse me. Did not weep, or threaten me with dread fates. She simply asked, and accepted my reply. And went back to her questions of our world. Were these bad people, great Prime, I think the filly would have had me suffer greatly for what happened to her. I saw only goodness in her, and her kind. Were I you, I would sit down, and listen to them. Who knows what things they might be able to offer us? Who knows what we might learn from them."

The old male sighed as he opened his palm again.

"I shall consider your words, doctor. Please, leave me now. I ask you stay as my guest until this matter is settled, though. My aide will show you to a room."

"I would be most honored, sir," he bowed to the man before turning to go.

"And, doctor?"

"Yes, sir," he asked, turning to study the man who seemed no less anxious now, but more in control.

"Say nothing of what we have spoken of here. Not to anyone."

"I understand, sir. As I said, who would believe me?"

The Prime did not answer as he left the office, and was taken by a younger aide off down a long hall to another room. A room that showed signs of being more prison than guest room. At least to his way of thinking. For no sooner had he entered the suite than the door was locked. The windows, he quickly learned, were barred, and locked shut. There was no radio, no tele-viewer. Not even the usual holo-viewer for entertainment. He was effectively cut off.

What was going on here?

**ST**

"So, what do you think," the Prime asked his senior advisors as soon as the doctor had left.

"There is one way to test the truth of this tale," one of the older men decided after a moment's thought. "Have these so-called offworlders produce a ship."

"Or….this _filly_ that so impressed the doctor," another stated. "Although I'm more certain that he has been infected with whatever mind control agent they thought to use on you, my lord," the lead advisor snorted his disdain.

"Infect an agent a year past, and leave him? To what end, sir?"

The advisor adjusted his robe, and shook his head. "What better way to make us think them sincere, than to have the good doctor in place, ready to argue their case."

"I wonder," another murmured as he eyed the aging advisor whose coat had long since turned a pale grayish-white. "What, El'mas, happens if these creatures are the genuine article? What happens if they are just what they claim to be?"

"Even worse," the old man spat, his ears flattened in disgust. "Think of it. Creatures that would appear godlike to our less intelligent brethren. They could easily take over, making _slaves_ of all of us. And who would gainsay them? Travelers from the stars? No, I doubt it. It's unlikely. Beyond unlikely. They are spies for the Southern Coalition. And we must not fall prey to this vile plot."

"I have to consider this carefully. And consider a practical solution. Thank you, gentlemen," the man behind the desk nodded. "I need to be alone for a moment. To think. That is all."

The five advisors bowed low, then walked from the room, this time leaving through the main exit, rather than going into the side room where they had listened to everything the doctor had said.

He opened his drawer, and looked down at the small metal device he had also been given. With a trembling hand, he put the smaller device to his ear as he had been instructed, waiting for a moment to see if he felt any different. He swallowed hard, but nothing seemed different. Nothing at all. He lifted the square device, and pressed a small, green button on the base. It chirped immediately, and a voice spoke out of the device.

"USS Carlisle. How may I assist you?"

"Is your…..your…..captain there?"

"Of course, sir. One moment."

"Captain Rollins here. Is that you, Prime?"

"Ah, yes. I….I have some….questions which require answers. And I am told one of your people has had direct contact with our race already."

"Yes, sir. As our report mentioned, Dr. Helen Slater was in charge of the initial exploration of your world."

"I wish to meet this young female myself, captain. Tell your….diplomats….I will speak again _only_ to her. And only if I can see one of your _ships_ for myself."

"I will relay your message at once, sir. I will send the response as soon as I have it, but I foresee no problems with your requests."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, sir. Captain Rollins….out."

"Yes. Uhm. Out."

He noticed the device had gone dark again. Before, he had barely been able to understand a word of the guttural babbling that he had heard from the diplomats who addressed him, trying to use X'terian as if they were ill-taught foals. Their command of the language was horrid. Their insistence on his taking the device he was given was suspicious. He was told they transported in private to prevent unnecessary alarm. Next time, he would have them do so before his council of advisors, in full view of everyone. There would be no doubts then. Not for anyone.

Meanwhile, he would see if they could produce this young scientist that Dr. Marcan has spoken of so highly. And so fondly. As distracted as he was, the Prime had heard the genuine affection in the doctor's voice when he had spoken of her. He wanted to meet this creature. To see if she was all the man had intimated. He most definitely wanted to see one of these fantastic ships. How could he make any arrangements for his people if he didn't even know who, or what he was truly dealing with? By the Maker, a mere lower caste healer had been into space, by his claims, and yet he, leader of all the northern herds, had not even seen so much as a shadow of their ships. Not one of their astronomers had seen anything at all to indicate they were out there.

The diplomats had claimed they remained under camouflage so as to not alarm the people until a public announcement was made. Well, he would see. He would soon see for himself.

_To Be Continued….._


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**4**

"I don't know about this," Lt. Myers protested as they approached the planet at half impulse, and without a holographic emitter operating. They had gotten the orders just two days ago to return to E'osta, and to do so with all speed. Apparently, the diplomatic mission had hit a snag, and the planetary rulers wanted to see Helen personally.

Along with her ship.

"What's to know," Helen asked, hiding her own anxiousness, though for different reasons. "The envoy wants my help, and the Prime wants to see our ship. I don't think it's unreasonable."

"But transporting down without an escort now that they know about us…."

"I did it before," she cut Andrea off.

"In secret. You're going to be going down there unarmed, and alone, in front of at least fifty potentially dangerous hostiles," the Morean complained.

"I won't be alone. The envoy will be there, too."

"Diplomats," Dee snorted. "They're useless. Half the time, a loaded phaser, and a strong right are all the diplomacy you really need."

"Antiquated thinking, Lt. Meyers. Even for you," Captain Sawyer grinned.

"_Kirk_ didn't think so. He's the only reason _we_ even joined the Federation. You need more men like him, and less….."

"Like me," Ben asked her as he watched Helen climb onto the transporter pad. They, as she, had gradually gotten used to her new body over the past months, thought the doctor had a few close calls herself adjusting to her body's new limitations, and requirements. She was, for instance, now most definitively a vegetarian. And so far, Dr. Marcan had been right. The Federation's best minds had yet to find a way to reverse her new genetically modified form, let alone explain it.

Many of them were very eager to learn more of the planet's organic medical sciences.

"No, no," Dee sighed, knowing she had all but insulted him. "You're a good captain. But most of them I've met tend to be so cautious I'm surprised they ever left Earth orbit."

Ben chuckled at that one. "Even Jim Kirk knew when to quit, lieutenant. He might not have liked it from what I heard, but he knew when to quit."

"Hmmph," was her only reply.

"I'm ready. Let's do it," Helen called from the platform where she stood proudly in her modified Star Fleet uniform now molded to her new physique. "Coordinate transport with the Carlisle, and energize."

**ST**

The council gasped in shock as the air seemed to abruptly hum before them, and seven silhouette's of light began to coalesce in the center of the council chambers before the Prime's advisors and counselors. The Prime himself stood up, staring at the energetic patterns that began to solidify before their eyes, revealing six familiar males that called themselves human, and one Exanter filly who wore the strangers' peculiar uniform.

The female looked exactly like one of his people, and he felt his mouth drop as she stepped forward, bowed low to him, and addressed him in perfect X'terian.

"Great Lord Prime, we are honored you have accepted our presence, and I hope our peoples can learn from this moment, and go forward to become as one in the eyes of the Great Maker."

The older male blinked as he looked down from his post at her, amazed by her formal manner, and the quite correct address of his station. He ignored his advisors, whose panicked murmurs betrayed that they now had no doubts at all these were truly alien beings. For the near primitive Southern Coalition could never have pulled off such a ploy.

The huge ship everyone had seen approaching on the holo-feeds the astronomers displayed was obviously no clever illusion. It was real. These people were _real_.

"You honor us with your presence, Dr. Slater," he gathered his wits to reply as he studied the young female. No wonder Marcan was so taken with her. She was beautiful. And those wide blue eyes. They all but glowed with life. And so much more.

"My captain extends an invitation to visit our ship anytime you wish. Meanwhile, I do hope we can continue with the process of getting to know one another, and….."

"If you don't mind, Dr. Slater," one of the diplomats stepped forward. "We'll take it from here. This is _our_ show."

"Not doing so well, though, are you," she snapped back quietly, and the Prime snickered at the by-play they likely thought unheard. But his hearing was excellent despite his age, and he heard every word. And understood it now, thanks to the little device still in his ear just then. It truly was a miraculous machine, too. And to be so small!

The man beside the filly glared at her, but turned away when another beside him motioned for him to be silent. The Prime had no doubt now, they were people just like his own. They even had their own self-important chancellors, much like the sort even he had to suffer.

"Sir, I hope you, and your people will now accept that the Federation is genuinely interested in a peace between us, and perhaps even an alliance. At your request, I have come back to see you. Our ship is at your service. And these more learned men here," she now gestured back to the surly envoy, "Are ready to work out the details of any future alliance, or meetings between our peoples."

"Might I ask a question," one of the Prime's advisors all but demanded as he rose from his seat.

The filly looked to the Prime, nodding to him, which was again proper form. The young filly obviously knew much of their ways if she could behave so correctly when his own people often did not.

"Ask, Lord O'lyn. But do not be rude to our guests. They have obviously come a long way to be with us," he stated, leaving no doubt he now accepted their tale of their travels.

"Just what do you hope to gain by allying with us? Do you seek slaves? Some kind of trade? Do you want our gold, or silver? _What_ is it you seek? Or will you continue to spout utopian ideas that mean little to real people outside this august gathering on the streets," he taunted her.

"Lord O'lyn," the Prime snorted furiously. "You insult….."

"Sir, I do not mind replying. If you permit it."

The old male smirked at the Prime as if daring him to disallow her. The Prime looked down at the young filly, and saw past her age in those bright, canny eyes. "Speak, Lady," he said, giving her equal standing among the lord's caste.

Again his people murmured, but he merely sat back down, and yielded to her.

"Lord O'lyn, is it? Yes," she nodded when he did. "I will reply, because neither I, nor the Federation has anything to hide. As to trade, that is possible, if our leaders decide upon it, and you and your people are the ones that will set any limits you wish to choose in that regard."

He only grunted before she went on.

"Silver, or gold? We quit using those base metals for currency _many_ generations ago. Now, our currency is found in service, and knowledge. We are explorers, teachers, and scientists. We build our ships to pursue those goals. Not to conquer, or invade. Yes, we can defend ourselves. Not _everyone_ we meet is friendly, after all," she told him pointedly. "But as to our purpose? We are here to make new friends, and to learn from them. And if you wish, we will in turn teach you some of what we know. Even how to _detoxify_ your environment in the rural lands where poisons still blight your people."

The council murmured anew at that one.

"As to slaves? We gave up such _forced_ servitude long ago when we accepted that _all_ beings are equal in the eyes of the Great Maker. This being true, how could we subjugate those who are, in essence, our brothers and sisters? Now, my lords, will _you_ accept my words? Or will you return to the wilds to revel in your backward ways, and your obviously cultivated ignorance?"

The cleverly veiled insult sent many in the chamber into paroxysms of laughter. The Prime stood again as O'lyn sputtered furiously, his ears twitching in distress, but could not seem to summon a reply. The Prime held up his hands, and silenced everyone.

"Our people will again meet with your envoy, lady," he told her. "The first meetings will begin _after_ I return from seeing your ship. I would do so now."

"As you wish, sir," she bowed to him, pulling her communicator from her belt.

"I shall summon you again once I return," the leader of the Northern Coalition told the diplomats who stood in silence beside her. "You may depart until then."

The head of the envoy nodded to him, then the Prime fearlessly came down to stand beside Helen. "Will you take us to your ship now," he asked.

"Of course. Just stand close," she told him as he eyed her while pulling out her communicator. "Slater to Sojourner. Two to beam up. _Energize_."

The council stood there, numb with wonder, as the seven beings vanished, and took their leader with them. Not one of them spoke in the silence that followed their disappearance. Not even O'lyn, who still distrusted the newcomers.

_To Be Continued….._


	5. Chapter 5

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**By LJ58**

**5**

"Tell me more of this….alien vessel," O'lyn demanded as he burst into Marcan's chamber. Or his prison, as he now deemed it.

"What do you wish to know, my lord," he asked blandly as he turned from the window, used to being so curtly approached, and questioned after the past few days.

"How large is it? What armaments does it carry? What weapons do they possess?"

"I know only what I saw, and what I was told. Dr. Slater told me it was about four-hundred thousand metric tons. She knew little of the tech behind it herself, as she was a doctor of anthropology, as she called her studies. As to weapons, I saw none, and none of the beings I saw carried a weapon," he said, deliberately leaving out the description of the security chief, or her peoples."

The advisor only scowled.

"Might I enquire if anything is wrong, honored sir," he asked when the man set to pacing, not replying to his response for a moment.

"They took the Prime," he finally grumbled.

"They…? Took him?"  
"He was taken by that unholy light they employ to jump between spaces."

"Ah, the transporter."

"He has been gone for _hours_!"

"There is much to see," he told the man with a slight smile. "I was up there for some time myself, and still likely saw only a fraction of what there was to behold."

"That filly is to blame," O'lyn muttered. "We should have insisted upon hostages."

"Filly? _Honey_ is here? She has returned?"

That did make him smile.

"They sent her back at our Prime's insistence," he spat, glaring at him as if it were his fault. "And she ensnared him with her honeyed words, and clever tongue. But I'm not stupid. If anything happens to our leader, _you_ will pay for it, doctor. I'll see to it myself," he spat before leaving the room as suddenly as he had come.

Marcan stared at the closed door that slammed, and again locked behind the agitated advisor. Honey was back? She was here? He felt a surge of hope as he returned to his post by the window. Only now he looked up. And wondered.

Did she still think of him?

**ST**

"This is _beyond_ wondrous," Ad'mm, the Prime told Ben Sawyer as the captain escorted him through the ship. Helen stayed close by at his insistence, as he much enjoyed the woman's clever wit, and obvious intelligence. Not to mention her beauty. "I cannot believe that such things even exist, and yet, here you are."

"There was a time in our world's history when we felt the same limitations, sir," Ben assured him. "We overcame them, and launched ourselves into space despite doubts, and doomsayers. We have come a long way. We hope to go much farther. And we hope you will be alongside us in the future. As you have seen, _many_ races work together in the Federation. It is….a cooperative effort."

He nodded at the young male who led this impressive assemblage of males and females of many varying clans. They functioned efficiently and obviously effectively, and yet there were no signs of slave castes. No blatant worker castes as he expected. They all did what they did as if unashamed of doing common work one moment, or giving commands to others the next. It was a truly egalitarian society from what he could see. Despite the philosophers and advisors who claimed it could never work, it obviously did. Here, at least.

"I would much prefer to see more, but I've likely been away too long as it is. I've got troublemakers who would see that as opportunity to cause more alarm if I'm not careful. So, regretfully, I must return. I have much enjoyed this visit, though, captain."

"Anytime, Lord Ad'mm," Ben Sawyer nodded to him. "We'll be here at your disposal for a few more days now that we've arrived."

"It truly is an amazing vessel," he murmured. "Even our few _airships_ are not quite so impressive after seeing this ship."

"We started with much less. Your time will come, too, sir," Helen assured him as they turned toward the transporter room.

"You're quite the lady, Dr. Slater. I can see why Dr. Marcan is so besotted with you."

"Marcan has spoken to you," she asked him, the interest obvious in her own soft voice as he smiled at her.

"Only recently. Remarkably, he held his silence all these long months, saying nothing until one of your diplomats told us that he could confirm their claims."

"He is a good man. He saved my life, you know."

"So I have learned. And you….haven't thought poorly of him for inadvertently transforming you as he did?"

"Why should I," she asked him. "As I said, he saved my life."

"You are a very remarkable young filly," he smiled as they entered the transporter chamber. "And a most lovely one, too. I'll give Marcan your greetings, if you wish," he asked her courteously before stepping onto the daïs without any fear.

"Please do. Tell him…. I remember him fondly."

"Of course," he smiled, easily reading the young filly's body language that said far more than her words. "Goodbye, captain. Again, thank you for your hospitality."

"Anytime, sir," the strange human nodded as the air began to hum around him again.

An instant later he was back in the middle of his own council chambers. The advisors were still present, and looking stunned that he could so easily come and go. "My lord," someone finally burst out. "Are you all right? Did they harm you? What did you _see_?"

The questions came fast and furious, but he merely smiled, and dismissed the council. "Forgive my tardiness, friends. I was….overwhelmed by my discoveries. Tomorrow morning, we begin the meetings in earnest with the Federation envoys. We have _much_ to learn, my friends. _Much_ to learn."

**ST**

Marcan turned when the door opened again. This time, it was Lord Ad'mm himself again. "I see you made it back safely, sir," he remarked, wondering what Lord O'lyn had to say now as the man lurked behind the Prime, glowering at them both.

"Dr. Marcan, I do regret necessity had us keep you secluded until we were certain of the truths being presented to us. We are now fully convinced, however, and you are free to go anytime you wish. Although, I'd like you to stay, and perhaps be our first….liaison with these new peoples."

He started to turn, then stopped and looked back with a faint grin.

"I would be greatly honored, sir."

"Oh, and Dr. Slater sends you her complements. She bid me tell you she remembers you quite….fondly."

"Truly," the doctor found himself smiling now. "That is…."

"Promising," Ad'mm asked him knowingly.

Marcan cleared his throat as he fought his own need to fidget. If he could, he would have blushed crimson. Thankfully, his dark gray coat hid any such reaction. "I am simply glad she is doing well," he drawled in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

"Of course. Well, good night, doctor. And thank you for your wisdom. Your words were much appreciated at the time. I assure you."

The leader of the Northern Coalition was gone before he could summon words for an adequate reply. O'lyn hesitated a moment to glare at him, then turned, and left behind his leader. Marcan barely paid him any notice. He was still feeling the heated arousal of knowing Honey still remembered him, and thought of him. Did he dare hope?

He barely even noticed when another aide appeared to escort him to a far more comfortable, and luscious suite.

**ST**

"I cannot allow it. Not yet, doctor."

"But, sir. There is still so much to learn," Helen complained. "And you know those diplomats are not going to….."

"Dr. Slater," Ben's gruff tone cut her off.

She sighed, and looked away, unaware that Ben's observation of her over the past few ten months had tipped him off on how to read her in spite of her changes.

When her ears flattened, her nostrils flared, or her tail moved, it all betrayed whatever she was thinking at times. Or how she was feeling.

"Helen," he sighed as they rode the lift to the command deck. "I can't pretend to know how you feel about….everything. But we still have our orders, and we still follow them. Right now, everything is in the hands of the diplomatic corps."

"The same ones that almost blew it _twice_ now, because they didn't pay attention to a damn thing I recorded?"

Ben chose to ignore that one.

"Sir, if I could just talk to them…."

"And Dr. Marcan?"

"He…. Well, I….."

"Dr. Slater," he sighed, shaking his head. "You have your orders. Stand down," he told her curtly.

She actually snorted, glancing away, but he didn't miss the way her shoulders drooped, and tail echoed the posture.

"Yes, captain," she said, and left the bridge, wondering how bad the idiots she had briefed three times now would screw things up this time.

They were trying to force the Exanters to accept the Southern Coalition leaders as equals, and to her, that would be like forcing Terrans to have accepted Klingons as partners during those early days of contact. The X'terians might be the same race, but the cultural differences were too great to simply lump them all together for the sake of some alleged efficiency. The diplomats were creating another crisis, and she knew she had briefed them over this before, and yet they were again ignoring her.

Something that was happening a great deal of late since her genetic mishap.

Not that some of them paid much attention to a female in general. The Federation might have made some genuine advances in certain respects, but males were males, whatever the species, or the century.

Idiots.

"Something else on your mind, doctor," Lt. Myers asked knowingly as the woman glanced her way, catching her backward glance at the captain, who had already dismissed her.

Helen didn't even smirk as she said, "Not at all, lieutenant," she said coolly. "Just wondering who they'll try blaming this time when those clueless academicians end up starting a war, rather than ratifying a treaty?"

"Doctor," the captain hissed, but the doors had already closed behind her, and she muttered "Quarters," loud enough for the computer to hear her, and carry her down the ship's decks to her quarters below the command deck.

By now she had adopted a careful stride that kept her dainty hooves from sliding on the metal plating of the decks, but she was still slower than usual as she focused on her own thoughts as she headed for her quarters.

She walked past the sliding doors that opened for her unique bio-signature, and jerked off her tunic.

She finished undressing before stepping into the shower, and simply stood, letting the hot water flow over her body. The one thing she did miss on board ship was a nice, hot tub she could soak in. She had been on some ships that didn't even have showers, but a tub was a luxury she had learned to appreciate long ago.

Not just for hygiene, but just now, the relaxing quality would have been very, very welcome.

She loved her work. Truly, she did. Anthropology had been a calling long before Star Fleet had chosen to approach her after her work with the Valzyrian hive insectoids. Until then, she had been a university professor hired out for her expertise, very rarely leaving Earth except at specific requests.

A class friend on the colony that ran into the insectoids recalled some of her theories on interrelating species, and had called just for her when her colony had encountered difficulties with the local hives they had not even realized existed until miners bored into one of their tunnels.

The trade agreement she had hammered out after daring the hive alone to seek out the queen had so impressed Star Fleet that they had hired her for exploratory missions on new contact worlds.

Now, if only their ego-driven diplomats would actually listen to her findings once in a while. There were times, she had to admit, that she seriously considered giving up her commission. That was a thought that crossed her mind more and more of late. Even before Dr. Marcan had literally changed her life.

Stepping out of the shower after the allotted water had run dry, she used a dryer after wiping herself off as best she could, considering her entire body was now covered in hair. Brushing out her mane after her hair, a surprisingly soothing ritual she had come to enjoy after a time, she walked back into her main quarters to dress in a fresh uniform, and considered going up to the observation deck. Maybe visiting the lounge.

Only she didn't really feel like company just then.

Frankly, she wasn't sure what she felt like just then. Things were so…..confusing.

Seeing Marcan again had reminded her of certain feelings she suspected were stronger than first noted. Had her changes brought along instincts that came with the new flesh she wore? Or had her long life immersed in study finally proved to be emptier than expected?

Perhaps.

Her primary concern, however, was the idiot now demanding that The Prime approach the Southern Coalition, and unite their world properly before they continue the talks.

What a damn fool.

He might as well have tugged on Lord Ad'mm's tail, and tried to bridle him.

Some people, she knew well by now, should never leave Earth orbit. The current head of the envoy assigned E'osta was one of them. Harold W. Williams was a genuine idiot, and unfortunately, that was the idiot that Star Fleet had put in charge.

She shook her head, and finishing her grooming, she dressed for bed, and lay back, staring at the ceiling.

"Maybe it is time to reconsider this career," she murmured, and let her eyes close. Still, there wasn't much else she could do. She had appealed to Captain Sawyer, but she had accept that he had a point.

The Sojourner wasn't a diplomatic ship. It was an explorer. By the time she woke up, they would have broke orbit, and headed for their assignment. She sighed again, and rolled over, and wished there were something she could do. Only she was still just another cog in Star Fleet, for now, and that meant she had to follow order.

Just as Ben Sawyer had reminded her.

Even if they were stupid orders.

**ST**

"Shields," Commander Bolin shouted, half standing out of the command chair as he heard the alert go off, the shrill Klaxons filling the bridge with a near deafening wail.

"Two incoming objects, commander," the man at the helm declared, studying the scanners before him. "Scanners indicate two old-style fission missiles."

"Phasers, lock on, and fire," Frean Bolin, a half-blood from Andor shouted. "Lt. Lean, get the captain up here, now," he added in the same breath as the white-haired officer sat back down, eyes fixed on the main view screen. "Kuulan," he glanced to a four-armed Surianni, "Where did they come from," he asked, even as the screens lit up with the explosions that almost overloaded the filtering of the optics.

"One of the larger islands in the southern hemisphere, commander," the yellow-skinned, red-eyed science officer told him. "There are apparently a string of silos on the major islands around the primary southern continent."

"Shield status?"

"Not even a wrinkle, commander," Lt. Ion remarked from navigation. "There is a radioactive cloud of debris just to our starboard, though. Might want to radio the Carlisle and let Captain Rollins know about it."

"Make it so, Lt. Lean. Try to find out if they know why the natives are upset enough to start firing on us."

"Yes, sir," the lean, Hispanic girl from the Mars colonies nodded even as she turned to her console again.

"What the devil is going on," Ben Sawyer growled as the burly captain stormed the bridge, his tunic still half open, as he obviously entered at a fast walk.

"Someone just fired two fission bombs at us, sir," Commander Bolin told him. "Negligible damage, but there is a lot of debris left in orbit."

"Anyone know why?"

"We only know it was launched from the southern hemisphere, sir," the commander told him.

Ben finished closing his tunic, and sat down as Frean moved to allow him to take the command chair.

"Anything else?"

"We have contacted the Carlisle to warn them of the debris field, and request any information they might have on motivations. We have yet to hear…"

"Captain, message from Captain Rollins now, sir," she reported.

"On screen," he ordered.

"Ben," the lanky, almost gaunt man that appeared on the screen. "So, you spotted the missiles in time, too?"

"I have a good crew. What happened, Carl?"

"The Prime suggested that if Williams wanted the Southern Coalition to attend the talks, he should invite them personally."

"And that resulted in us being attacked," Ben demanded.

"We still haven't heard from Harry," Carl admitted, looking worried. "We did intercept two missiles aimed our way, though. By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late to warn you. We're repeatedly tried to contact our people on the planet, but all four members of the away team are still silent."

"Get me Dr. Slater, fast," Ben shouted at Frean.

"Right away, captain," the man nodded, and glanced to nod at Lt. Lean.

"She's your local expert, right," Carl Rollins asked.

"Yes, and if what she tried to tell me earlier is right, the Southern Coalition likely just declared war."

"On who?"

"All of us," Ben spat. "The Northern Coalition, _and_ the Federation!"

_To Be Continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**By LJ58**

**6**

The intercom tore her from a very pleasant dream, and she groaned as she rolled over to glare at the blinking switch as she heard Lt. Lean's voice echo, "Dr. Slater, to the bridge."

"Slater. What's going on," she sighed, wondering what could have required them to call her already if they had just left orbit.

"The captain needs you on the bridge now, doctor. We have an emergency on the surface. Negotiations just went south, in a very major way," the voice on the com told her.

"On my way," she said, almost jumping up now as her imagination came to life in ways she didn't like.

The Southern Coalition, she knew, still had a lot of very dangerous weapons. Fission bombs, bio-weapons, and worse were still the primary arsenal of the southern Exanters, and if they were going to risk using them again, it could destroy the planet's ecosystem entirely.

From what she knew of their history, the only reason they had ever stopped fighting was because the damage was simply too much for either side to manage, and so they had entered a very long, very tense stalemate, and neither side wished to break it for fear of the overall consequences.

She immediately thought of Williams, and almost groaned as she reached for a fresh uniform, and dressed as fast as she could before heading to the bridge.

One thing was certain, this was not a time to say 'I told you so,' even if it was the first thing that sprang to mind.

Stepping out onto the bridge a few minutes later, she saw the tactical data displayed around her with a practiced sweep of her gaze, and grimaced.

"They actually fired on us," she exclaimed.

"Captain Rollins, could you fill in Dr. Slater on what exactly has happened to date?"

"Right," the gaunt man on the view screen nodded at her. "Dr. Slater, four hours ago, Mr. Williams led an envoy down to the Southern Coalition's heartland to try to instigate talks so they could join the negotiations with the North."

Helen resisted the urge to groan, and only nodded as she stepped forward, pausing just beside the captain's chair as she focused on the obviously worried man onscreen.

"We immediately lost contact with the away team," the other captain went on, "But chose to give them time to do whatever they could. However, just fifteen minutes ago, the Carlisle, and your own ship were fired on, and we've yet to be able to raise the envoy. From what we're seeing along the southern borders, too, there is a lot of massive mobilization, and the Prime is now demanding we step in if the Southern Coalition attacks."

"Dr. Slater," Ben asked, seeing her look away, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the Sojourner's own scans of the south now.

"Thinking, sir. Give me a minute."

She walked over, and eyed the science console. "Show me the last reported location for the away team?"

Lt. Kulian tapped a few buttons, and gestured at the console's nearest monitor.

"Good Lord," she groaned.

"Dr. Slater," Ben asked as she turned to face him.

"The idiot beamed down in the heart of their temple. They are very religious people in the south, and for a stranger of any origin to simply show up there….. Well, it isn't good."

"Suggestions," Captain Rollins asked.

"You have to understand, sir. To the Southern Coalition, their appearing there was tantamount to a declaration of war."

"Didn't you brief them…..?"

"I gave Mr. Williams' team everything I had on X'terian culture, north, _and_ south, captain. Apparently, he didn't bother to read it," she grumbled.

"Ben, I hate to do this, but I need to conscript your anthropologist for this one. We cannot let these people think the Federation is here to fight for either side."

"Of course. Helen, suggestions?"

She was looking at the monitors again, and then looked around, and nodded.

"Right. I need Dr. Marcan, and the Prime. We need to confer at once. Because it's looking like I am going to have to go down there."

"Where," both captains asked.

"To the Southern Coalition's capital. First, however, I need to get a little more recent information on their politics. So, I need that conference. Here, or on the surface, but I need to talk to both of them now."

"I understand that Lord Adam…."

"Ad'mm," Helen corrected Carl. "

"Yes, but why the physician? I didn't know he was involved in…"

"He's from the borderlands, and knows the south, as well as the north. He can give me insight that even the Prime might not be able to offer. And I need to know everything if I'm going to be beaming into a political debacle."

"I'm not sure we can let you go down there," Ben said. "For all we now, those four men are already dead…."

"One thing I do know, sir. You insult a Exanter, you do not apologize via communicator. You have to stand in front of them, and bow. Unless you want to see how long we can hold off their missiles while they go to war with the Northern Coalition?"

"Contact the Prime, and that doctor," Ben turned to Lt. Lean. "We'll have them both beamed up for expediency's sake."

Helen nodded, and told him, "Thank you, sir. Hopefully, we can salvage this mess before it gets too far out of control."

"Keep me posted," Carl asked.

"Of course. I suggest keeping your shields up, too."

"Obviously. We're monitoring their silos, too, and hopefully nothing else will happen until we can act. It could be they're waiting on our response before doing more."

"We can hope," Ben agreed.

**ST**

"Marcan," Helen smiled as he materialized on the pad not long after he had been contacted.

Lord Ad'mm, grim and silent, already stood next to her as the gray male stepped down, and smiled at her.

"Happy as I am to see you again, Honey, I daresay this is not a time for personal feelings."

"No, doctor," the Prime grimaced. "Once more, your nation needs your services. This filly hopes we can conjure a plan to calm the south before they do more than merely rattle sabers in our direction."

"You have an idea," Marcan turned to her.

"A partial one. But I need more information. I need to know of the people. Their culture. The way they think. I do know enough to realize my own people inadvertently insulted them, but….."

"How," Ad'mm asked her, knowing only that the south had suddenly been screaming threats, and the loosely guarded border between their lands was suddenly a DMZ once more as even the reports from the scattered islands both sides claimed around the globe were heating up, too.

"They beamed down inside their central temple in Ruulian," she admitted.

"By the Maker," both males groaned.

"Yes. I know I warned them, so this was a serious oversight that they will answer for, if we can save them. For now, it's more important to save your people unnecessary violence. I know you come from the borderlands, Dr. Marcan," she smiled at him again as they now walked down the hall with a security escort on the way to the captain's conference room. "So anything you can tell me of the people, and how they think, will be welcome. And possibly helpful."

He nodded, and looked uneasy.

"Yes, I grew up near the borderlands," he nodded. "And I can tell you this much. The people in general I knew are very religious. Very religious. It was, after all, all most of them had. My…..friends tried to aid some of them trying to feed their children during the worst famines, but in the end, most became zealots simply because hope in the Maker's justice was all they had left."

"I see," she murmured," as the Prime looked uneasy, and said nothing as Captain Sawyer just listened. "Lord Ad'mm, what of you? Have you had any direct dealing with their leaders?"

"I have met their confederation leaders but twice, filly," he said grimly. "They changed each time, too. Mortality aside, their political stability is not that of our own nation. Their people are constantly demanding much, and when a leader does not receive it, they….."

"Force them to step aside," Ben asked as he listened to them.

Ad'mm and Helen both looked grim as she made the connection the Prime was suggesting.

"No, sir. I don't think they give them that choice. Do they, Lord Ad'mm?"

"No," the graying male said ominously. "It is why we are so hesitant about trying to work with these people. Any failings are met with death. Swift, and instantaneous. Yet another reason we shun the south, and why their leadership is so weak. Most fear to step up, knowing some mindless mob may destroy them at the first sign of weakness, or even disappointment. Let alone incompetence, or corruption."

"If that is the case, there is no way I can allow you to go down there," Ben told her.

"Absolutely not," Andrea agreed. "No offense, but your cousins sound insane," the head of ship security exclaimed.

"I assure you that many, many in the north ,feel the same way," Ad'mm told the woman.

"If there is any chance to save the diplomats, and this alliance, we have to try something," Helen sputtered. "If we just sit up here and ignore them, the people of the south are going to think they scared us, and possibly try something worse."

"Unfortunately, she is right in that respect, too," Ad'mm sighed. "They do have a history of escalation if they are ignored too long."

"What has been the current status of your negotiations with them," Helen asked knowingly.

The Prime sighed, then eyed Marcan.

"I doubt he would betray you, sir. Dr. Marcan seems to be a man of integrity, and a man of great principle."

"Then he is a rare man, indeed," the Prime told her, but began to admit his efforts to aid the peoples of the Southern Coalition were not always met with understanding, or logic. To a people whose primary territories were still poisoned by toxins, they felt they should be delivered, and delivered at once by those that caused the problems. Be they their own leaders, or those of the North.

If they couldn't reach the Northern Coalition to demonstrate their displeasure, the peoples of the south could still show their own current leaders how little they thought of excuses.

"All right, I think I have an idea," Helen told them after a time. "But it will require some careful planning, perfect timing, and a degree of playacting."

"What are you thinking," Ben asked her.

She told him.

"No," he spat. "Absolutely not. You are very close to violating the Prime Directive, and that is not why we are here," he thundered as he rose from his seat to glare at her.

"Actually, knowing my people, and my own experiences with the Southern Coalition, I think it is a very good idea," Ad'mm told him as Andrea rolled her eyes.

"Going down there alone is still a foolhardy idea," the head of ship security told her. "If Kirk were here….."

Ben Sawyer groaned, and shook his head.

"Lt. Myers," he hissed.

"I'm just saying, he wouldn't let them dictate terms. He'd do the dictating. And force them to listen."

"I'm not trying to force them….."

"Just dupe them. And pass off our technology as…..some kind of supernatural agent."

"If I might," Lord Ad'mm smiled as he stepped up beside the golden filly. "Captain, as I have said, dealing with these peoples is tricky at the best of times. As you are already offering detoxifying machines, what harm would it be to bring them to the south first, and let the filly use them to undermine the fanatics before they do bring us all to the brink of war?"

"It could be an important first step in healing all our peoples," Marcan suggested slyly.

Captain Sawyer closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, letting it slide out slowly between his barely parted lips.

"We could all get court-martialed over this one," he told Helen.

"Not if it works," the blonde grinned.

Marcan chortled himself at that, and moved a little closer.

"I will accompany her. Knowing these people, they might be hesitant to hear from a female at first. Even did she come from the stars."

"Captain, you cannot let her go down there alone. Not without backup," Andrea sputtered.

"I'm not. All right, Dr. Slater. We go with your plan, but Lt. Myers will go with you, with a _full_ security team.

"Actually," Helen smiled now. "I've got just the team that should help us get our point across."

"Let me guess. You want Abe and Will?"

"Abe," Ad'mm asked as Andrea grinned now. "Will?"

"Ah, yes," Dr. Marcan nodded. "The rather imposing fellows that I first saw. Yes, they would be….intimidating."

"But you, and they, have to listen to me. No one does anything without my direct order. Whatever else, these people have to feel that my authority is legitimate," she told Andrea.

Captain Sawyer eyed them, glancing from Andrea to Helen, and back.

"All right. We'll risk it. The last thing I want is for a recent contact to try going to war with the Federation. Lt. Myers, you will follow her orders to the letter. We do not want an escalation here. We'll keep a transporter lock on all of you just the same."

"But….."

"To the letter," Ben growled at Andrea who started to protest.

The woman grumbled, but nodded.

"Fine. I won't hurt anyone. Until I need to hurt someone."

Lord Ad'mm looked amused for a moment, but then turned to Dr. Marcan.

"And, you, Doctor? Do you truly wish to risk this gambit? I could send one of my more experienced agents….."

"Great lord, with all respect, an official agent injecting themselves at this point could cause more harm than good," he told him, thinking of cold attitude the man in his hospital had displayed a year ago in the face of a family tragedy.

"I'll say," Andrea huffed. "We already have enough self-important blowhards screwing things up. I'm just saying," she muttered when Helen and the captain both eyed her.

"I'm not arguing," Helen told her. "I'm thinking of one in particular. And if you see Williams, or his team, your standing order is to get them out of there without delay, or hesitation," she added.

"You're being redundant," the security chief scowled.

"I'm being practical. Williams has a good team, but _he's_ an idiot, and we can't risk him making things even worse."

"She makes a valid point," Lord Ad'mm remarked. "Frankly, he barely speaks our tongue, and is rather condescending at best. His attitude has not impressed anyone on my council. I can well imagine what the Southern herds likely thinks of him. Were it not for Dr. Marcan's fondness for Honey, we might never have listened to any of you."

"Duly noted," Ben Sawyer noted. "Andrea, if you find Mr. Williams, you will get him out of there as fast as possible."

The woman's smug grin told Ben he likely didn't want to know what she was thinking.

"Without causing an incident, please," he added quietly.

Lord Ad'mm eyed the stocky, muscular woman, and shook his own head.

"You have….strange females, Captain Sawyer," he remarked as the two females moved to one side to confer on something between themselves. "Our fillies, or mares, would know to listen to their males, and not argue."

"Lt. Myers is good at her job, but her entire race is…..very independent, Prime," he told him. "Still, they are valuable allies, and while some are more….impetuous than others, I have never doubted Lt. Myers' courage. Or skills."

"That is good to know. Very good to know. Now, I should return to reassure my own people, and hopefully try to keep our own truce in place while your filly tries to work yet another miracle."

"Another," Ben frowned.

The older male chortled as he gestured to Marcan.

"From all I've heard, Captain Sawyer, she has been working miracles since the good doctor first encountered her. For one, I have heard Dr. Marcan has never looked upon another female in all his long career, and yet he now seems besotted enough to risk his life following her to certain death. Not many females can inspire such loyalty."

"Dr. Slater is….unique," Ben sighed. "I just hope you are right, and she can pull off this miracle. For all our sakes."

"As you say, captain," Ad'mm nodded as he eyed the women still conferring intently.

_To Be Continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**By LJ58**

**7**

"Energize," Dr. Helen Slater nodded at the crew chief as she, Dr. Marcan, and Andrea Myer stood on the pad with four of the woman's security team. Two of them the requested wolvyrn nicknamed Abe and Will who hardly needed phasers, but were dressed in Starfleet uniforms, with full equipment all the same.

Not that their names were Abe, or Will, but no one could manage a wolvyrn name without a lot growling and snarling that even universal translators didn't always get right.

With them, two large equipment cases materialized with them when they reappeared on the planet below a few seconds later as she looked around the slightly less regal city of Ruulian that had obviously suffered compared to the more developed Northern Coalition that had managed to keep the major fighting away from their own lands.

The people around them gaped as the group appeared, belatedly recognizing two of their own, or so it seemed in Helen's case, and then they realized two very large alien predators were standing in the middle of a very crowded market square she had chosen to appear where people were obviously still waiting on food.

"People of E'osta," Dr. Marcan shouted. "I am Marcan of Isious. I bring you great tidings from the Maker of us all, who has sent star beings to us to aid our planet. Not the North. Not the South. But all of E'osta. For have we not all long prayed just for this deliverance? Will you hear the Great Maker's words from this filly, who is born of the stars, and comes to aid us all?"

"What can a young filly bring us," a grizzled, and obviously scarred male grumbled, looking ready to start trouble.

"For one, good sir," Helen stepped forward fearlessly after pointedly gesturing to Abe and Will to stand by, making the crowd aware that she seemed to control them. "I bring relief from the poisons that mutate your foals, and sicken your people. Just as I also bring food for all."

"In two small boxes," another spoke, this one a middle-aged mare clutching a painfully thin child to her side.

"Will you be patient? In but ten minutes, I can show you the truth of Dr. Marcan's words. He is one of your own, and has called to us, and we who follow the Maker through the stars have heard, and answered him, and all of you. Lt. Myers, if you will open the synthesizer?"

The woman looked ready to grumble, but the crowd stayed a respectful distance from them as Andrea and the two human security men were as alien to the Exanters as the wolvyrn.

She knew they had a limited time before the authorities showed, and she needed the crowd here securely on her side before they arrived.

Andrea, knowing that as well as she did, quickly opened the box, powered up the portable generator, and unfolded a device that seemed to expand to thrice its size before the astonished crowd. Many of the young gasped, and made noises of astonishment, and then Helen daringly stepped forward to the mare and her starving child, and smiled down at the thin colt.

"Young sir," he addressed the colt formally, with respect. "Tell me your favorite meal. I give you word, you shall have it, and all you want, here and now."

"R-Really," the hungry colt asked her after glancing at his mother.

"You have but to name it," he nodded, hearing people not far off complain as obvious authority figures began to press into, and through the crowd.

"Isouan oats," he asked, almost prayerfully.

Helen, who had programmed the food synthesizer in advance with E'ostan foods and delicacies, only smiled, and turned to the device behind her.

The colt gasped along with the crowd as the steaming bowl of fresh food was held out to the colt after seeming to appear from out of nowhere.

"I assume you wished honeyed oats, with fresh butter," she asked, handing him the bowl.

The mother stared at the food, desperate, yet suspicious, and she could guess why.

She lifted the spoon, and took a large bite herself, and smiled.

"Clean, untainted food, my friends," she declared, and held out the bowl again. "And I have more. Much more. For all the free people of E'osta. I ask only that you hear me out," she called even as four armed males in body armor appeared, and surrounded her.

"Doctor," Andrea growled as the wolvyrn tensed.

"Hold," she shouted. "Good sirs, we are here to _aid_ your people. Not to cause trouble."

"It's good," the colt cried out just then, all but inhaling the warm oats. "Really good! More. Please, lady! More!"

"You have but to ask," she smiled, and dared the authorities obviously aiming weapons at her without answering as she ordered another bowl, and handed it to the colt.

The growing crowd surged around her, now, and Andrea looked more uneasy than ever as Helen signaled her to be patient.

"You control these…..beasts, filly," one of the authorities demanded when Abe snarled, but didn't move when Helen gestured pointedly for him to wait.

"I no more control my _brothers,_ than I control you, good sir," she told the obvious warrior. "But the Great Maker brought our peoples together on our journey through the stars, and we have learned to be friends. To work together. Now, the Great Maker has brought us here, to you. To aid you, and help your people. I ask again, will you hear me out?"

"Yes," someone shouted, and the chant rose, almost deafening, and the crowd surged around them, and the warriors now looked uneasy as the crowd were obviously ready to rally for the strangers.

"I know you have seen our ships in your skies," Helen called out. "I know your leaders, not understanding our presence, tried to attack us. Your weapons did not harm us. But we are not here to fight, just as I have said. We are here to help. I have shown you how easily I can bring you food. Now, I offer you clean water. Andrea," she nodded at the security chief who bristled at substituting for the usual techs who would have come along were she not so sure this weren't a suicide mission.

"I know much of the toxins are in your water," Helen went on. "This machine," she pointed as Andrea opened the second smaller box, "Can clean any water you pour into it. If you place one like it, which I freely offer, into a river, or lake, it will clean that entire body of water. Just as we have ways of cleaning your air, and even your farmland. We can remake the Southern lands into a paradise such as your ancestors once knew, and enjoyed."

"And what is your price for these wonders," a stately mare in an ornate robe appeared just then.

She recognized the badge of office from one of the temples of the Maker, and smiled to the priestess who obviously had some authority if the crowd parted for her, while ignoring the authority of warriors.

"My people ask but for one thing, Mother," she addressed the priestess reverently, which obviously pleased the people around them. "Peace. Only that. We ask for no riches. No slaves. No followers. Only peace. It is all our people ever ask. I give you the words of one of your own in proof. Dr. Marcan," she now turned to him.

"I am a humble physician from the borderlands myself, honored Mother. I have long despaired over our world's state," he told her. "Then Honey," he called her, "Came from the stars, and she has shown me wonders beyond wonders, and given me hope for our race for the first time in many years. Even the Prime has listened, and now seeks to sway his own foolish advisors to heed her. I give you word, before the Great Maker, and my Southern _kindred,_ that all she tells you is true, and sure," he declared.

Helen smiled, but said nothing just then.

Such a declaration put Marcan's very life on the line with hers if the people didn't believe them.

"That is for our leaders to decide," the lead warrior growled, but still looked hesitant to get too close to Abe, or Will. Not that he looked all that certain about the hairless female as the Amazonian woman glared at him as if she were about to leap on him bare-handed.

"I think not," the priestess said after a moment. "I think the Maker himself shall judge this prophetess, and her words. Bring water from the well," she ordered.

Some of the people gasped.

Helen could guess why.

Most ground water would be thoroughly contaminated this close to the borderlands, and it was likely lethal to anyone that risked drinking it.

She drew a deep breath, and merely waited as a young male raced off, and soon returned holding a large chipped jar filled with dirty, brown water that he held as if fearing it might yet slay him just for holding it.

"Helen," Andrea hissed.

"I believe, Andrea, that this is a test. Is it not, Mother?"

"Indeed, filly. Be you of the stars, or a clever ploy, let us see the truth of your words. Drink this water if you can truly purify it. For all here know that to drink the local water is death. Always death."

Helen took the large jar, and smiled at the young male who stared at her owlishly.

"Bless you for aiding me, young sir," she told him, feeling it couldn't hurt to pad the résumé, as it were.

The barely adult colt looked astonished as she took the jar, set it atop her machine, and pulled out a small box from her side.

"This will tell me the truth of this water for all to hear."

She ran the tricorder over the top of the jar, and almost gasped herself.

"It is easy to see why this water is death to your people, Mother," she said, putting the tricorder away. "My machine tells me it is filled with radioactive fallout, and a lethal biological virus likely from your leaders earlier folly. Now, see my people's gift work for you."

She poured the water into the open top, and thumbed a lever, then activated the scrubbing filters. The machine made a soft humming only slightly louder than the food synthesizer, and then she pulled out a flask she showed everyone was empty before setting it under the small spigot on the side of the machine.

She tapped the spigot, and the water began to flow.

"A glass," the priestess called out. "For all to see."

Someone quickly produced a small, but clear glass, and Helen smiled as she poured the flask's purified contents into the glass.

She held up the glass, proving the water was now as clear as crystal as all those close enough to see again gasped at her. Then, she lifted the glass, and put it to her lips.

"To peace, Mother. For all of us," she said before she took a long drink. Then handed the glass that was still half full to the stately priestess. "Will you share this bounty, Mother, to prove my words for yourself?"

The slightly older mare took the glass, and held it up.

"In all my years, never have I see water this pure, or this clean no matter how often it was boiled, or filtered," she admitted.

Then drank every drop.

The mare almost let the glass fall as she stared at Helen in naked shock.

"It is….. It is….."

"Mother," someone gasped, fearful of a trick.

"It is _real,"_ the priestess declared, and the people around them cheered madly.

The warriors looked uneasy, but even they knew the folly of trying to manage a crowd filled with believers.

Helen took the glass again, refilled it from the machine that still had a reservoir from the larger jar, and lifted it high for all to see.

"Food and water for all. And peace," she cried.

"Peace," the crowd took up the chant now. "Peace! Peace! Peace!"

Sgt. Recl'mm had seen many things in his short career in the city guard. He had never seen the things this young filly had done right before his own eyes. He did know one thing, though. If the leaders tried to decry her as they had the strangers they had round in the Great Maker's temple, the people would execute the lot of them.

This young filly, she realized, was not going to be so easy to decry.

For unlike most prophets, and saviors of the past, she had done more that speak sly words, or offer empty promises. She brought food and water, and promised more.

He couldn't help but smile.

"Sergeant," one of his men asked. "What do we do?"

He grinned at the young recruit.

"We follow," he declared. "We were told to investigate, and we have. Now, we follow. I don't know about you, Darok, but I want to see more."

Not one of his three men argued.

**~C~**

"What is this madness," a stout, surly stud in common garments demanded as the priestess herself led Helen, and her group into the city capital, some of her own acolytes carrying the wondrous machines.

"This filly comes from the Great Maker, and has brought us deliverance, Lord Sa'aru," the priestess told him before all the people who still followed, and would not be held back.

Not that the current leader's guards would commit the folly of trying.

"I have seen these colors before," the big stud spat, eyeing their Starfleet uniforms. "On those that came as heretics, and liars, and offered sly threats, and more empty words. Now, after we tried to destroy these false star-gods, you bring me more pretenders," the leader thundered as he eyed the small group. "Guards, take them all. They will die with the others at dusk!"

"That would be the height of folly," Andrea stepped forward now at Helen's nod.

"Lord Sa'aru," the priestess told him. "I have seen this star-born filly purify water, and conjure fresh food myself. I have tasted the water, and heard the delighted cries of a child who has not known a full belly in years."

"Cheap tricks. If this filly is anything, she is a simple magician, and I will not risk our people….."

"Dr. Slater?"

"Yes," she asked the big wolvyrn as he moved up behind her, startling the people into silence as he moved.

"Found them," Abe growled.

"Go," Helen told the big wolvyrn, who moved so fast, and so gracefully, that no one could stop him as he literally leapt over fourteen feet to land far past the stunned leader, and loped down a hall where the prisoners were being kept.

"What do you think you're doing," Sa'aru demanded. "Is this more Northern treachery."

"No, Lord Sa'aru. Your Mother speaks truth here. I bring food, water, and peace with me. I do admit, some of my own people came for their own gain. In their ignorance, they defied our ways, and yours, and defiled your temple. For that," she bowed low not to him, but to the Mother. "I offer you my most sincere apologies, and accept your penance, whatever it shall be. But my friend shall take those foolish men to my own people, and you have my word, they shall be punished. And punished well."

"Lord Sa'aru," two frantic guards came running out of the hall just then. "The prisoners! They all vanished when that great beast smashed in the door, and stood among them. They just vanished!"

"Well, that's one problem taken care of," Andrea smirked.

"What of the squad watching them," the surly stud demanded.

"The beast pointed, and they all fell as dead," one of the guards wailed.

The crowd gasped at that claim, and Helen laughed.

Loudly.

"Do you hire untried foals for your personal hall, great lord? My friend but put them to sleep. Your brave men shall wake soon enough. Unharmed, and uninjured. We do not kill."

The crowd gasped anew, and the priestess smiled at her.

"Hear her words yourself, Lord Sa'aru. Before us all, test her wonders. Then tell me that I, a follower of the Great Maker since my childhood, am duped by a pretender."

Sa'aru was obviously smart enough to guess the mood of the crowd filling his hall just then, and turned back to Helen.

"If you speak true, then feed me now. Offer me…. Offer me stuffed wheat like that from the greedy Prime's own tables. With honeyed tubers, and the purist water available. Taken from the _ditch_ outside."

She looked back at the nearest warrior, and nodded.

"Good sir, would you bring me water?"

The warrior shocked Sa'aru. He bowed to the nameless filly, and turned to walk back outside.

Even as the strange women opened up one of the boxes they carried, and the woman spoke soft words to it as if teasing a lover. Just before dishes began to appear as if by magic.

"By the Maker," he gasped as Helen held out one dish after another to him, and even he couldn't deny the food was real. And very tempting.

He pulled one of the steaming tubers from the honeyed sauce, and put it in his mouth.

He almost wept at the taste of the fresh food.

Then the warrior returned holding a bowl filled with muddy, brown water.

"While I admit this food is…..incredible, no one can purify such filth," he swore, seeing the dark soup that was more sewage than water, which prompted Sa'aru's protest.

"A glass," she said, and poured the bowl's contents into the machine as before.

The Southern leader barked an order, and someone ran.

By the time someone returned with a tall, thin glass, the machine had stopped humming, and Helen gave him a confident smile as she put the glass under the small spigot, and pressed. To his genuine shock, pure, clear water flowed out to fill the glass.

"As I have told your people, Lord Sa'aru, I bring food, water, and peace. Only that, and no more."

"Such magics," he rasped, staring at the clear water she held up.

"No magics. Science. Let there be no doubts," she said, and she once more took a long drink. "Will you drink to peace, Lord Sa'aru," she asked, holding out the glass to him as she had to the priestess.

The stunned stud gaped, and slowly reached out to take the glass. He slowly lifted the glass to his own lips, and drank. Again stunned at the pure, clean taste when he had seen that muddy filth poured into the filly's strange device.

He lowered the empty glass, staring at it. Then back at her.

"You are truly a star-being. A _spirit_ of the Maker!"

"I am but a sister from the stars, come to aid all E'osta. As I said, my lord. I bring you peace. If you will hear me."

"Peace," the crowd began to chant again.

Sa'aru dropped to his knees, and stared at her.

"I am yours to command," he swore, and the people filling the hall cheered madly.

Only Andrea looked grim just then as Dr. Marcan smiled with relief, and Helen only smiled at everyone.

_To Be Continued…._


	8. Chapter 8

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**By LJ58**

**8**

"You can truly bring these wonders to the Southern Lands? To our entire world," Sa'aru asked as his sole, surviving advisor listened incredulously in the now private meeting with Helen, her group outside just then, leaving her alone with him, and Mother Jania.

"The Federation is ready to help all of E'osta. The Prime has already visited out ships. Seen what we offer. I extend the same invitation to you, Lord Sa'aru, so you may see for yourself just what we have to offer, too."

"The Northern Coalition has already….visited your star ships?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Against his advisors' wishes, I might add, but he was quite convinced once he did. Now, he seeks to drag even his less wise followers into a future that will benefit your entire world. I know, sir, he would be more than willing to speak to you, too, about a true alliance, did you wish it. But the fighting must end. The toxic weapons must be put away. You only hurt your own with those devices."

Lord Sa'aru grimaced, and glanced to the silent priestess.

"When I was put into power, the one thing I wished more than anything else was to rid our land of those dreadful bio-weapons. As you say, Lady Honey," he called her after Dr. Marcan's example, "They are not good for our people, for using them renders any victory meaningless."

"Agreed," the Mother nodded to him.

"Yes, but my own military refuses to listen. They care only for bigger, and better weapons, and don't realize we are only destroying what little we have left since the Northern Coalition's defenses now keep any missiles from getting very far over the borderlands."

"Perhaps you might have some of them attend you when you visit….."

"When we visit," the priestess told her. "I wish to see this ship of the stars myself, young filly," she told her. "It will help me better understand you, and determine a suitable penance befitting your stature."

"As you wish, Mother," Helen nodded to her, not arguing the point. She wasn't here for pride. She was here to stop a war, and perhaps help a planet in flux. "I am more than certain my captain would welcome you, too."

The mare only nodded to her, adjusting her cloak as she did.

Beyond the room, in the great hall, Lt. Myers, and her team, were working as unofficial servers to feed all those that stayed to hear what would come of this meeting of star-beings, and their own leaders.

More than a few warriors showed up, too, but they were all hanging back, simply watching.

Sa'aru looked at her not for the first time, as if still unable to bring himself to believe what was obviously happening right before his eyes. Then, even as a uniformed stud in black, with more than a few ribbons on his grim jacket burst into the room, the unassuming leader simply nodded at the man bracketed by four guards.

"I will go with you, young filly. I will see this ship of yours for myself."

"What do you mean, Lord Sa'aru," the obvious military man demanded. "Go where?"

"Ah, General Colraan," the leader of the Southern Coalition nodded. "Good. You are here. You owe this young filly an apology."

"I…. What," the big stud sputtered.

"You fired on her ship, a peaceful vessel, without true provocation. You will apologize."

"Without…..provocation," the officer sputtered incredulously.

"The creatures that appeared earlier came by mistake," the priestess told him. "That has been explained to our satisfaction," the told the senior officer.

"Are you being duped by this…..creature. Just because it wears a face like our own…."

"If I may, Lord Sa'aru? Mother Jania," Helen nodded to each of them.

The priestess merely nodded.

Sa'aru sighed heavily, but gestured for her to go on.

"General….Colraan? Yes," she smiled when he only snorted. "I am as I am because the Maker willed it. Dr. Marcan himself can tell you I wore another shape when I first arrived," she said, nodding to the silent physician who looked a little uneasy at the man's presence.

"So, you admit you are not what you seem…..?"

"General, you are putting too much important on your own fears. Most military men, do. My friend Andrea is much the same. She is as much a warrior as you, and just as stubborn, too."

He scowled at that.

"Females cannot be warriors," he scoffed.

"You have not met my friend," she smiled. "I offer you the same invitation, sir, if only to calm your fears. Come with us. Speak to my captain. See the ship that brought us, and the things we can bring you. Don't repeat the mistakes of the past when it can only harm the very people you try to protect."

"Is that a threat," he snarled.

Helen sighed, and shook her head.

She couldn't help but catch the faint mirth in Mother Jania's otherwise schooled manner.

"General, without boasting, I should tell you that our starship is untouchable by your standards. Even we have enemies out there. Some that would overwhelm you without warning had they found you first. That we are here, reaching out as friends, should tell you that is not our way."

"So, you do have weapons?"

"A single of their warriors put nine of my best sentries to sleep in an instant," Sa'aru told him blandly. "Do we have anything that could match that?"

"Warriors? You mean….that beast out there?"

"Will, you mean. It's his name. He is from a race we call wolvyrn. They can be very good friends," Helen told him. "The one you should worry about, though, is my friend Andrea. She is a warrior. She thinks like you. She takes protecting us very seriously."

"A female…..?"

"Any problems," the big brunette demanded as she appeared in the door just then. "Will said you were getting loud in here."

"That," Colraan exclaimed, eyeing the big, muscular woman, "Is a female?"

"Watch it, furball," Andrea growled.

"Andrea, it's okay. Just ironing out a few details."

The woman's dark green eyes glittered, but they missed nothing as they swept the room.

"Well, yell if you need help. I had Tom beam back up for extra food packs, and more water filters for the purifier, too. We've had a few more guests show up as word spreads."

"Good. The more that see we are earnest, the better in the long run," she nodded. "I trust the _treacherous_ Harry Williams is being detained," she asked pointedly.

"Captain Rollins has him locked in the brig, and won't even let him contact Starfleet until he has your report," she told her, well understanding her ploy just then. "I don't think he will be getting away this one."

"So, your people have their own malcontents," General Colraan murmured.

"Don't we all? Think, General," Helen asked him. "If you did try to fight again, who gets hurt? Us? Able to fly away, without ever being touched? The Northern Coalition, who has had years to plan, and a much better defense grid to block your weapons. There will damage on both sides, but I admit, I have seen the North's defenses. They are better than yours. You will once again be adding to the misery and destruction of your own already suffering people. I ask you, as friend, listen to me. Give us a chance to help you, and your people. To help your entire planet."

"Why," he grunted.

"Do you know, sir," Dr. Marcan spoke now. "I asked her the same thing when we first met. It is, apparently, what they do. Her peoples, and they are a wondrous band, travel for the sake of knowledge. No other reason. No fame. No wealth. They are explorers. Scientists. The things they could teach…."

Colraan eyed the plainly dressed stud he dismissed as a peasant, and snorted.

After a moment, he eyed Helen, the nodded.

"I will see this ship with you. But I bring our own guards with us. The Mother's life is too important to risk without precautions," he added.

Helen noted he said nothing of Lord Sa'aru.

"Then consider me your guide," she told him, and went to the door.

"Lt. Myers, we're preparing to beam up. Remain here, and see all the hungry are fed while we are gone," she told her, noting four new techs had beamed down by then, and two had brought extra food processors, and two more were setting up a water filtration pump they were setting on capped well set to one side of the great hall.

"You sure big, and disagreeable has calmed down enough," she scowled, eyeing Colraan through the open door.

"He'll be fine."

Andrea glared, but nodded.

"Just keep a close eye on him. I don't trust him."

"I'm sure the captain will be using all safety protocols when we beam up," Helen told her quietly, glancing over her shoulder.

"I'll just remind him. When I order the extra filters and food packs we need. I don't think some of these people have had a decent meal in months."

"Marcan was right. Most of them seem desperate just because they're hungry, and afraid. Seeing this place, I can understand that. We'll be beaming up in a few minutes, so you call the captain first," she told her, closing the door.

Andrea only nodded, and then disappeared behind the closing door.

"If we're ready then," Helen asked when she deliberately took her time explaining the transporter process to the general and his men.

"Yes," Mother Jania simply nodded, obviously excited, and trying very hard not to show it.

Lord Sa'aru looked uneasy, but more blatantly excited.

The general, she noted, simply looked cynical.

"You two will stay with the Mother at all times," he told two of the guards with him. "You two, with the Lord Sa'aru."

"And what of you, sir," one of the younger warriors asked him as he glanced at Helen and Marcan.

"Do you think a northern-born peasant could take me, boy," the surly officer growled, obviously looking down on Marcan, and not even considering Helen in spite of her claims to date.

"All right, everyone stand close," she said, moving them together as she stood with them, even putting her back to them. Then she pulled out a device the general recognized from taking the other men's strange technology. "Dr. Slater to Sojourner," she called.

"Sla-tuh," Mother Jania gaped for a moment, even as Helen said, "Party to visit the captain. Lock on, and energize."

She and Marcan stood down from the transporter pad after materializing. Both of them more inured by now to the process. The other Exanters stood there looking shaken, and uneasy, especially when General Colsaan looked around, and realized two of his men had not come with them.

"Where….? Where are Intarr, and Shruun," he rasped, locking his eyes on Helen even as a strange door opened with a hiss of sound, and two massive beasts walked in with a smaller male. All wearing the same uniform.

"Forgive us, General Colsaan," Captain Sawyer addressed him directly, proving he had listened in on their conference when she had discreetly left her communicator open just for that purpose. "But two of your men were carrying viral explosive devices of some kind, and I could not allow that on board my ship. You understand."

"They were what," the Mother gasped in genuine surprise, and looked to Colsaan.

"If they were, I was unaware of it," the officer said. "And you left them with that crowd of civilians? The damage they could do…..?"  
"Will be minimal," Ben told him. "We took the liberty of transporting them out of the city, and into a more remote part of the wilderness until you wished to deal with them yourself," he added, not commenting on the possibility that he might have ordered some kind of mad attack himself.

The surly warrior shook his graying head, and swore.

"That is the cost of recruiting peasants. You get as many zealots as soldiers," he swore. "So, you are the commander of this….vessel?"

"Captain Benjamin Sawyer. He turned to the others, and made a courtly bow to the priestess, having learned a few things from listening to Helen. "Welcome to my ship, the U.S.S. Sojourner."

"It seems a bit…..cramped," Lord Sa'aru commented even as the door opened for them as Ben led them out of the transporter room, and into a wide hall that ran in both directions.

Dr. Marcan burst into laughter.

"Forgive me, sir," the physician told him. "But I felt the very same way when I first came here by accident. Then I saw a sight that absolutely stunned me. Captain, with your permission, perhaps our first visit should include a look at E'osta?"

"That's a very good idea," Helen agreed.

"All right. One stop by the viewing lounge, and we'll get on with the tour. Lady," he turned to Mother Jania, "Gentlemen, this way."

Colsaan noted the two beasts stayed in the small room, and didn't come out.

"You truly command those monsters," the general asked Ben.

"Abe, and Will are not monsters, sir. Just another species. You'd be surprised at the variety out there," he smiled. "As you are about to see. Our starship has a crew from quite a few member races, and many of them enjoy relaxing here," he said, and walked into a door that opened again at his approach, without any explanation for it.

Colsaan paused, eyeing the door this time, and walked through.

"How…..?"

"We can talk about technology later. Right now," Ben said, "I believe the good doctor would like you to see something."

He led the small group past a group of off-duty personnel that barely even glanced their way, and then pointed out a large, glassy pane before them.

Mother Jania simply stared.

Sa'aru gasped in obvious emotion.

"That….cannot be real," General Colsaan choked.

"It is. Our world," Marcan told him, and the largest land mass that was their home was a dichotomy even from here. Most of the North was lush, green, and showed blue spot that spread out to the oceans. The southern half of the Great Island was almost all brown. On the far side as the ship orbited, they saw another, darker brown mass that was the lost home of their ancestors. Long ago destroyed in another forgotten war.

Colsaan leaned forward, his hands clenching on a railing near the ports.

"It looks…..sickly."

"We can help you with that," Helen said kindly, daringly putting a hand on his bowed shoulder. "We can help you purify the waters, the air, and even the land. E'osta can be green, and fertile again, with no dead lands to trouble you."

Colsaan was the first to speak as they turned from the grim sight of their world.

"How," he fairly demanded.

"We start, by speaking with your neighbors," Helen cut in. "Is he ready, Captain Sawyer?"

"Ready," Ben nodded, and gestured toward the door.

Even Mother Jania lost a degree of composure when they walked through the crowded ship, and entered another smaller room. This one with a short, graying stud who was studying a curious model of something on the table.

"I still cannot believe this ship of yours can be so….huge," Ad'mm exclaimed, and then locked eyes on the group with Helen. "Ah, you are a Mother of the Way," he said, and bowed.

"So, the North does still favor the Maker," she smiled after regaining her composure. For unlike a frowning Colsaan, she recognized him at once, having seen him once at the last attempted aid talks.

"North, or South, I have always known we are one People, Mother," the graying Exanter smiled faintly. "It is just some of our people, in their fear, and despair, have forgotten that truth."

"You still speak wisely, and well, Lord Prime."

"Prime," one of the guards hissed.

"Stand down," Colsaan snapped. "This is not a place for fighting," he said, walking over to the table, and eyeing the curious model the Prime had been studying. "You say this represents their ship?"

"Perhaps you'd like a better look," Ben suggested.

"And how is that possible?"

"Our sister ship, the Carlisle, is orbiting close by just now. I just have to open a viewport here," he said, pressing a button on the table that made part of the wall seem to slide open. Then the officer was staring out into space again, but this time, a massive ship hung in those stars over his planet.

"That….. It's huge," he rasped, trying to imagine all the weapons, and soldiers such a vessel might carry.

It was one thing to see something in a telescope, or a grainy holo-film. To see it so close, in all it's glory. Ships this huge were bound to powerful. As powerful as the people flying them.

He turned to Lord Sa'aru, then back to Mother Jania, and grit out, "We should talk."

Helen only smiled.

_To Be Continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

_I do not claim any characters from the Trek Universe, and am only using any named herein to tell a story meant for entertainment purposes only._

**Star Trek: Lost Mare**

**By LJ58**

**9**

"Is there a place where we might speak alone," Mother Jania asked her when the meeting finally began to break up after what seemed countless hours of conferring, and talks between the two leaders of the surviving Coalitions respectively named North, and South.

"Of course. Is there anything you need," Helen asked as Dr. Marcan glanced their way.

"A moment of your time. I wish to speak in private, young filly, because this involves matters the males need not know about just now. A matter of….penance."

"Of course," Helen immediately nodded, and gestured to the door. "We can go to my quarters. No one will disturb us there."

"Honey," Dr. Marcan asked when she turned to apprize the captain of their need to speak alone.

"It's all right, Marcan," she smiled at him. "A private matter. I don't think we'll be long."

"Take your time," Ben told her. "At least you two got these men to speak civilly for a change. That gives me a lot of hope this mission can still be spared."

"I'm certain Captain Rollins will be happy to hear that. So long as Williams isn't allowed back on the planet."

"I think we can guarantee that one," Andrea drawled, walking in just now.

"You're back," Helen blinked.

"Do you know how long it's been, Slater," she growled. "We must have fed half the damn planet down there. We are definitely going to need to stop by a starbase for resupply."

"Don't mind her," Helen smiled as Jania stared at them oddly. "Andrea lives to complain. It's part of her nature."

"The devil it is, and where are you going now," the woman complained when Helen led Jania to the door again.

"Just a private chat," Helen smiled. "Why don't you stay here, and reassure the captain you haven't done anything stupid while below."

"Now, wait one….."

"Your companion is….unusual," Mother Jania said quietly.

"Andrea? She's Morean. They're all like that. You learn to like them. They really are very nice people."

"And….the wolvers?"

"Wolvyrn. Believe it, or not, they are very peace-loving people. Nothing is more important to them than protecting their own. When they joined the Federation, they extended that protection to us. They are not, appearances aside, violent at all. Unless, of course," she smiled, "You are attacking them first."

Jania nodded as Helen stopped, and put her hand on the door that didn't open at their approach.

"Come in. We can have privacy here."

"This is your quarters," she asked.

"Well, my sleeping quarters. I usually spend most of my time either in the library, keeping up with new cultures, or discoveries, or on planets, adding to that library," she smiled.

"It must be a grand library, then," the mare remarked, walking around Helen's quarters. "Still, this is a surprisingly austere chamber for so enterprising a filly."

"I confess that I live for my work. Andrea complains I don't know how to relax," she laughed lightly.

"So, when you came to our world?"

"You were but the latest world I was helping our diplomats understand, so we might approach you with respect, and mutual safety."

The priestess paused in her looking around, and stared hard at her.

"What, young filly, is your true name? I have heard many call you different things in our short time. Tell me your true name."

"Oh, well, it's Helen. Helen Slater. Marcan likes to call me Honey," she smiled. "He claims it is easier on the ears, and the tongue."

"He is right. Do you know, though, Helen Slater of the stars, that Slater is very close to a word in our old tongue which means _deliverer?"_

"Oh. I didn't get to any of the old histories, or grammars. Only the most recent."

"Much has been lost in the madness of war," the priestess told her mournfully. "Lives, and knowledge. It seemed, after the last war, even our very hope was slain. At least, it has been so in the South."

"Then, I hope we can restore it," Helen smiled at her. "You mentioned my penance?"

"Yes. Your name decided me, young filly. Your patience, and your kindness to that poor colt, starving and dirty, that you treated like a high lord. Seeing your world here, I have now decided your penance."

"I have given you my word to accept your decision. Just tell me what you would have of me," Helen told her firmly.

Jania surprised her, she smiled, and stepped forward, embracing her.

"I, young filly? Not I, but E'osta. Prove your devotion, and your spirit. Come back to E'osta. Spend one year in the temple as my acolyte, and let me teach you as a true, and proper priestess while you oversee the return of our world's prosperity."

"Mother Jania…."

"Honey, I am only a simple priestess, but I am not blind. You do not truly live here, filly," she said, releasing her. "You do not live at all unless you are among strangers, learning, and seeking. Seeking, I think, a home of your own. I see no holo-images here. No likenesses of family. Am I right? Are you alone?"

"I…..was orphaned young," she admitted.

"On E'osta, you will be welcomed, and a part of a greater family. I have already seen enough to know your people will have to leave others behind to aid us. To manage the wonders you have said will aid our world. I ask you, young filly, to join us. To be our deliverer."

"Mother Jania….."

"The choice, of course, is yours," she added.

"No. No, I….. I gave my word. I'm certain my captain will understand, too. Especially after that….ignorant male almost caused a greater tragedy here. Still, I don't see myself as a deliverer," she told her. "I'm just…..a filly," she said helplessly.

"Just now, especially to a single colt, you are the very Maker's messenger, come down to spare him death."

Helen smiled at that.

"I would ask you, though. Of all those present in that moment, why chose that single colt?"

"A test," Helen asked. "All right. I'll be honest, I could have picked anyone. But who would be more appreciative of a simple meal? A proud, fully gown stud, surly and discontent from the start, or a young foal, who wasn't even sure if he would see the next day?"

"Is that all to it?"

"And, when it comes down to it," Helen added, "Even the meanest of us would sacrifice to ensure our children lived to carry on our names. Or memories. It's something that almost every species has in common. The desire to save their young."

"I think you are wiser than you realize, Honey. When we return, come with me, Sister Honey. Come to the Maker's temple, and learn our world for yourself while you show us all a better way. That, as I have said my star-born sister, shall be your penance."

Helen found her wiping tears from her eyes just then as she considered what the priestess asked of her.

"I shall speak to Captain Sawyer once he's finished with the men."

"Ah, men. So many problems would go away if they just listened to us," she sighed.

Helen burst into laughter now.

"Pray you never meet a Klingon," she told her.

Jania cocked her head, and echoed, "Klingahns?"

Helen began to explain.

To say the mare was stunned was a genuine understatement. Especially after she called up a file image on the computer in her room.

**ST**

"Absolutely not," Ben spat as he stared at his xenon-anthropologist. The best he had ever seen, though he wouldn't say so. Not in front of her.

"Captain, if I might be so bold," one of the diplomats who had beamed over to join them as the truce talks proceeded between the two leaders. "Dr. Slater would be of immense value on the ground. She knows more of these people than even we do as yet, and is obviously favored by both sides now. Frankly, her PR value alone would go a long way to helping us settle our negotiations after Williams faltered so badly."

Ben sighed, and glanced at the waiting party ready to be beamed down to their respective cities.

"I suppose you feel you need to go?"

"Sir, I gave my word to accept her penance in return for her aide. It would make us look pretty hypocritical if I backed out after things seemed to be going our way again. Besides, we both know there is a lot of work to do yet."

Ben stared ominously at her, and then looked to the older mare that was so composed as to seem immobile.

"Fine. Keep your communicator with you, though, and stay in touch with the Carlisle. Or the other teams. Don't get lost again, Slater," he sighed.

She smiled at that.

"No, sir," she grinned.

"I'm going to hate to lose you. I'm sure Starfleet will see the value of you staying behind, too. Especially when we deliver that idiot to them," he added as Harold Williams was led past just then, still fuming loudly over his own import, and how everyone was going to suffer once he got in touch with his own people.

Since the Carlisle was remaining behind to carry out the diplomatic mission, Captain Rollins had talked him into delivering Williams to Starfleet on his way to his next assignment.

Considering the trouble he had already caused, neither captain wanted to leave him behind, and risk him starting something else.

"Just make sure my reports are collated properly. And don't forget the new log files I typed up for….."

"We know our jobs, Dr. Slater," another tech sighed, staring at her as he walked over to hand her an equipment bag. "Spare recording disks, and an extra tricorder. Try not to lose them before you can upload them for transmission."

Helen sputtered, but just shook her head.

"Goodbye, Captain Sawyer. It's been an honor, and a pleasure serving with you, sir," she finally said as she turned to join the others on the transporter pad.

"We certainly won't forget you, Helen," Ben drawled cryptically.

"It's Honey," she grinned, and nodded to the crew chief. "Energize."

**ST**

For the next five days, Honey barely seemed to rest as she coördinated with the local teams now spreading water purifying stations through the city, and the rest of the south, while also working to set up detoxifying agents that would start the work promised with the alliance with Starfleet.

The border between North and South was also slowly coming down, in that more and more arms, and troops were being pulled away, even as more and more aid now came south to help those that needed it most until the Southern Coalition could once more feed its own.

Her work with Mother Jania was added to those technical duties, and she was surprised at just how practical much of it was. The Mother worked with widows and orphans, and even helped settle legal disputes, and rationing concerns while food and water were still an issue.

Then she even showed her a long-buried library where very old scrolls in semi-familiar language filled huge shelves. Someone, she realized, had built this virtual vault a very long time ago to save these scrolls. It suggested that something here was very important in the eyes of the Exanters' ancestors. Important enough to pull resources from an ongoing war to build this protective chamber.

She was soon dividing her time between her new duties, and the library, and even Mother Jania finally chided her, and suggested she remember to sleep.

Well into the second week, and already the people seemed to be far less grim, and showing more hope than she had first seen even after returning from the Sojourner with a far more hopeful General Colsaan.

He had personally tried the pair Ben had beamed back to him, and learned they were there to take out the threat of the sky-people any way possible. With their testimony, their own underground leaders of a small group of zealots, determined to make the entire planet burn for reasons of their own, were found, and captured.

Much of the violence in the city died almost stillborn after that as people began to work together with new goals in sight.

By the third weeks, Mother Jania had her accompany her to a newly rebuilt orphanage for the region, and she was stunned to find that Dr. Marcan was there, too, working with the relief teams. He smiled her way, but kept to his own duties, but made it clear he had seen her with his wide, genuine smile.

"You do know, Sister Honey," Jania told her, "That acolytes are allowed a mate even while working with the temple."

Honey sputtered, and fretted over that, but then latched onto the obvious.

"He has a job. And a place. And it's not in the South," she told him. "When his work is over, he will be returning….."

"Did you know, Marcan is my own son," she said quietly.

Honey stared at her now.

"When he was only three seasons of age, and my own mate dead in the war, I risked all to smuggle him over the border, and into a relief center where I was forced to leave him. I was obviously a Southern mare. My very accent would have betrayed me. He, however, had a chance to live, and I was determined to give it to him."

"Oh," was all Honey could say.

"Obviously, he kept in touch. He sent what aid he could, when he could after he grew older. When he returned, with you, I did not need the Maker's wisdom to know you were trustworthy, young filly. And when I heard your name, I knew you were the one I have been waiting for all my life."

"The one….?"

"To take my place," Jania smiled at her, and turned her back toward Marcan. "Now, go and greet your mate. He tells me he has returned home, and will stay here to see new doctors trained, and _all_ our people treated well."

Honey felt a knot in her chest, and stared back at her.

"You…. But he….."

"If you do not realize he desires you above all, you have not been paying attention, Sister Honey. Or may I soon call you, daughter," the older mare smiled.

Honey turned, and impulsively hugged her.

"Nothing would make me happier," she said happily, and went to join Marcan, and a group of children he was vaccinating who cheered her arrival, since many of them already knew the star-born filly who had come from beyond to save their world.

"Doctor," she greeted him. "How are you patients doing?"

"Quite well. Perhaps you might entertain them with a story, or two, while they wait their turn," he smiled at her.

Honey smiled back, and went to lift one of the smaller foals, a young filly no more than two. "Hello, sweetie. Would you like a story?"

"Tell us about the sky-ships," a colt shouted.

"Tell us about the other worlds you saw," another cried.

"Can we have more food," the young filly she held asked quietly.

"As much as you like, little one," she smiled at the soulful gaze. "You have my word."

The little filly's smile warmed her as much as Marcan's.

"I feel like I've come home," she told him.

"You have, Honey," he told her warmly. "You have."

_End….._


End file.
